J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you so much for continuing to read! Thank you especially to Candylou, MargaretA66, max2013, and ErinJordan for your reviews! I'm sorry I didn't get this one out quite on schedule; but I had some editing to do on it to clarify something, and I didn't get a chance to do that until now. I hope you enjoy! God bless!
Chapter 20
Every time he moved his arms, a dull pain shot through Tony's shoulders. It wasn't anywhere near as severe as the pains anywhere else, but it was enough to make him feel sick. Giving up his task wasn't an option, though, so he tried to ignore it and keep going. The one good thing about it was that he was pretty sure he couldn't really get sick, since Angelo hadn't given him a bite of food during the entire ordeal.
Hours earlier—maybe a day?—Tony had discovered some pieces of stiff wire in the dirt on the floor of the mine. They were a little too long and a little too flimsy, but he had doubled them over, which had helped with both problems. Now he was trying to use two of them to pick the lock on the ankle iron. Frank and Joe had tried to teach him how to pick a lock. They had insisted on teaching all their friends tips on how to escape if they got kidnapped or attacked during a case. Tony had paid attention at the time, but it had been several years ago. He had never mastered the skill, and any practice he had put into it was long in the past. Even so, he kept at it. He was determined to get out of here any way he could.
Finally, he felt the lock give and the iron opened. Tony almost couldn't believe it, and he wasted several precious seconds staring at the unlocked iron, trying to convince himself that it was really true. Then he remembered there was no time to waste. Angelo came by irregularly, but often enough that Tony needed to put as much distance between himself and that cave as quickly as he could.
He got to his feet. Immediately, he wavered and had to lean against the wall. The beating he had received, along with the lack of food and decent sleep, had taken its toll on him. He realized he was too weak to walk very far or very quickly. It was a disheartening moment, to think that he'd gotten this close to escape and it was his own body that was going to stop him. Fortunately, even though the weakness didn't pass, the discouragement quickly did. Tony steeled himself, said a prayer, and started forward.
Every step hurt and he had to stop and pant for a few seconds after every few steps. It must have taken close to half an hour just to reach the mouth of the mine. Once again, Tony's courage was failing him fast. At this rate, he'd never get away before Angelo got back, and even if he did, what then? He didn't know where any towns or even any roads were, and he couldn't walk there if he did know. Chances were he'd just get stuck out in the desert and die there.
No sooner had that thought passed through his mind than Tony made a renewed effort to keep going. It would be better to die free out in the wilderness than wait around in this cave for Angelo to come back and kill him. Of course, his odds with Angelo were possibly a little better, since his friends might find him and rescue him, but in his present state, Tony didn't even think of that. All he could think of was getting away.
He made it outside. It was daylight, but it looked like it was getting close to evening. Tony limped forward as well as he could. He made it to a little copse of trees before he had to sit down and rest. By this time, the sun was setting. Tony watched it.
It was a glorious sunset. The sun was the color of red roses and it reflected on the clouds, turning them brilliant pink and soft orange. It looked bigger and closer than any sunset that Tony had seen before, and it seemed like it ought to have had a triumphal orchestra accompanying it.
This might be the last sunset I'll ever see.
It was almost like someone had said it to him, rather than that he had thought it himself. It was a physical blow, so much so, in fact, that Tony doubled over in pain and he felt his eyes water. Tony had never been particularly emotional about sunsets, but this one seemed so like the end that he couldn't help it.
"No, no, no," he moaned aloud. "I don't want to die. Not yet. Please, God, get me out of this and I'll do anything."
He hadn't the strength to say another word, and even that had been barely more than a whisper. It seemed quieter than before when he had finished, as if his words had been swept away. He knew they had been pathetic, weak and desperate. He'd never thought before that he was particularly afraid of dying, but now that the very real possibility was staring him in the face, he found that he was. He still had so much left to do and to live for, and he'd wasted so much time already. No, he couldn't die. Something would happen. Someone would find him or…or something. It would all turn out all right. It always had before. Surely, it would again.
Almost automatically, Tony reached into his pocket and found the string of rosary beads still there. He pulled them out and clutched them in both hands. It was going to be all right. It had to be.
Tony wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep. He didn't even remember being particularly sleepy, but he must have been asleep. He woke up and it was dark out. Someone was shining a flashlight on him and he blinked in the glare.
"Am I glad to see you still here," Angelo's voice came from behind the light.
All Tony's courage left him at that. If he had been standing, he probably would have fallen to the ground with despair.
"You didn't get very far." Angelo came closer and grabbed him by the arm to pull him to his feet. Tony couldn't stand and could only lean heavily against his captor. "Lucky for me," Angelo went on. "You really scared me when I found you were gone. I didn't think you could get out of that leg iron. At least I won't have to worry about you much longer. I'd put an end to this now, but I need you just a little longer. I'm going to make sure you don't try something like this again, though."
He dragged Tony back to the mine and pushed him onto the floor. Tony didn't even try to get up. Angelo grabbed his shoulder and made him sit up, facing him. That was when Tony saw that Angelo had a rifle slung over his shoulder. He took it off, and Tony wondered dully what he was going to do with it. He had already said he didn't intend to kill Tony just yet.
"Pull your knees up," Angelo requested.
Tony didn't obey. He didn't even look at him.
Angelo grabbed his left knee and pulled it up. Without warning, he brought the butt of his rifle down directly on Tony's foot. Tony let out a scream.
"You can't walk out of here with a broken foot," Angelo said.
Tony barely heard him and he barely felt it when Angelo snapped the leg iron around his right ankle. Only two thoughts existed in his head: the inarticulate, severe pain in his foot and that he really was going to die down here.
HBHBHBHBHB
"So, uh, you gonna tell me what's going on or am I supposed to keep guessing?" Shaun asked after he had been driving for several minutes with Joe in the passenger seat, maintaining a stony silence. "'Cause, see, you keep saying that all the rest of us might be in some danger, too, and I think it's only fair if I have some idea what that danger is. And why and all that kind of thing."
Joe stared at the passing houses as they cruised through a residential area. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. We haven't been keeping you up to speed. Sorry."
When he didn't go on, Shaun pressed, "So…are you going to tell me anything?"
"Yeah, I'm just trying to think where to start. It's a long story. Actually, it's several long stories stacked up in a trench coat." Joe thought a few seconds longer, and then he launched into the most concise version of the entire tale that he could manage. It wasn't very short, of course, since he had to explain about his dad's first encounter with Black Rose back in New York, when the organization had killed Mario and Angelo's parents. Then he explained about how Black Rose had started a cult in Bayport a few years ago and how Tony's sister, Lisa, had gotten mixed up in it. Then there had been the serial killer who had targeted Iola, but wound up nearly killing Joe instead, which, now that Joe thought about it, had been the real starting point of internal problems in their family. After that, Black Rose had returned to retrieve the photograph—the one that Angelo wanted now and which showed their leader—from Lisa, who had been entrusted with it back when she had been flirting with the idea of joining them. The next stage had been when the Hardys had gone to the small Asian country of Ziyou, where Black Rose had managed to get a stranglehold on the local government, and the Hardys had routed them, with help from a British agent named Edmund Wight. Finally, Joe explained about how he had been held hostage along with Frank and their mother about a year earlier.
"The robbers didn't have anything to do with Black Rose," he concluded. "As a matter of fact, the female one—Clare—has been saying she wants to turn things around and from what I hear, she's doing all right. She won't be out of jail for a long time, of course, but I think when she finally does, she'll be okay. See, that's the sort of thing that makes the whole thing such a mess."
Shaun wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Not really seein' why."
"Oh, right. Well, the thing is that the police couldn't talk them out, at least not quickly. Frank had gotten shot in the leg and we were all worried that the bullet would sever an artery and he'd bleed to death. We had to get him out as quickly as possible, obviously. And when you think about it, if the robbers were going to stand in the way and not let him get medical help, they were really threatening to kill him just as much as if they were standing there, saying they were going to shoot him. In the second scenario, most people would agree that it would be justified to kill them if it was the only way to stop them."
"Uh-huh. But that's not what happened?"
"No. The police—and my dad—thought the only way to get Frank out in time would be to take them out. I managed to get them to let me talk to my dad without them listening in, so Dad told me to lure them to the window so a couple of snipers could shoot them, and I didn't cooperate. I couldn't."
"Why not?" Shaun asked. "I mean, if they were putting your brother's life in danger, and yours and your mom's, I mean…Like I said, my sisters and I aren't really on speaking terms anymore, but if someone was trying to kill them and I could stop them…"
"You would?" Joe asked.
Shaun frowned as he thought about it. "Well, I guess it would be kinda hard. I don't really believe in guns, you know. But I could throw things at them."
"Which really wouldn't do much. Most people…Well, everybody should know some self-defense, but most people aren't going to use it, at least not in a life-and-death situation. There are some exceptions to that: police officers, park and forest rangers, soldiers, private detectives. Any of those, you're almost guaranteed to have to either defend yourself or die at least once during your career. That's why I quit and came out here and thought I was done with all that."
"And that's the problem between you and your brother," Shaun concluded. "The thing I don't get, though, is that you don't want to solve mysteries and your brother doesn't want you to, so it seems like you should be agreeing."
"The problem between Frank and me isn't the whole self-defense issue. I mean, it kind of is, but only because that's what I totally freaked out about. Before I left, Frank and I had this massive fight. Well, more me flipping out at him. And then we've barely talked since, and not for any lack of trying on his part. Then with me moving out here and living like some kind of bum…" Joe sighed. "I don't blame anyone for thinking I'm not in the headspace for working on a mystery."
"Your brother doesn't have to act like such a jerk about it, though."
Joe's temper, which hadn't been much soothed since the argument with Frank, flared up again. "You don't know anything about Frank. Sure, I'm mad and frustrated at him right now, but he's still the best person I'll ever know and if he's not acting like it, it's just because there's a maniac or maniacs running around, trying to kill most of our family plus one of our best friends is being held hostage and threatened to be killed unless we do what Angelo says, which includes me helping, and he isn't sure he can trust me to do that." Joe ran his hand through his hair. "He's just trying to protect me, like always, and I don't know how to convince him that I don't need or want protected that way."
"So…" Shaun started to say, but he never got farther than that one word.
There was a sudden loud pop, followed instantly by glass shattering. A myriad of small cracks appeared in about the center of the windshield at the same moment, obscuring their vision. Both occupants of the car shouted as Shaun lost control of the steering wheel and the car jumped the curb. It hit a power line with enough force to make the airbags go off.
"What's going on?" Shaun asked.
"Get down!" Joe told him, ducking as well as he could himself.
For a few seconds, he was afraid someone would approach the car and finish the job, but then he heard people shouting outside and realized that everyone in the neighborhood had heard the shot and the crash and were coming to see what was happening. If the would-be assassin was smart, he or she would have run off already.
Slowly, Joe began to extricate himself from the crash. Shaun saw him and followed his example. Neither was hurt, other than Shaun having a bloody nose from the airbag.
Everyone was asking what had happened, including Shaun, but Joe didn't say. There was no need to get everyone even more excited. He'd wait for the police to arrive.
HBHBHBHBHB
"I'm in this whether you like it or not," Joe was saying to Gomez as he and the captain were standing near Shaun's wrecked Jeep. Shaun, now that the excitement was over, was forlornly surveying the crumpled front end of his vehicle. Joe was a bit relieved when Gomez showed up alone, instead of bringing Frank.
"What do you mean by that?" Gomez asked calmly.
"I mean that this assassin isn't going to stop targeting me just because I'm not actively working on the case," Joe said. "It's not about stopping an investigation; if what Angelo said is true, it's about revenge."
"This Black Rose organization has trained assassins, is that correct?" Gomez asked.
"Yeah, they train them themselves, I think. It's really not that far out there to think that they're after us for ruining several of their plans already."
"Not at all. What I find hard to believe is that an organization so efficient that they operate completely under the radar and who specializes in training assassins can't come up with a competent one."
"What do you mean?"
Gomez nodded toward the Jeep. "They missed. They failed in their attempt on your parents' lives, too. One failed attempt, I could believe, but two?"
"What are you getting at?"
"I don't think anyone is trying to kill you. Angelo might have orchestrated the whole thing to pressure you into doing what he wants. Or possibly, it is Black Rose as a whole, but their aim is something besides your family's deaths."
"Like what?"
Gomez rubbed his chin. "Good question. It's interesting that this would-be assassin—if that was their goal—knew where to ambush you and what vehicle you'd be in."
Joe looked around. Now that Gomez said it, that was odd. "We're not that far from the apartment. Maybe they were just waiting."
"Wouldn't it be more efficient to wait right by the apartment? Picking a random street to wait and see if you came down it seems like it would waste a lot of time. It wouldn't be, though, if the assassin had an accomplice who told them where you'd be and when."
"Sure, but who would know that?"
"There is one person."
Joe took a step backward. "You think I set myself up to get shot at? What next? You think I'm part of Black Rose?"
Gomez patiently shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant to imply. I've already assumed that you're not a likely suspect. When I said 'one person,' I meant one person who would be a likely suspect."
For a moment, Joe still didn't understand what Gomez meant. Then his gaze drifted over to where Shaun was still looking at his damaged vehicle and Joe's eyebrows rose.
"You think Shaun might be working with Black Rose?" he asked. "That's ridiculous."
"Why?"
"Well, because he's Shaun. He got shot at, too, you know. They could have hit him by accident."
"Perhaps they're a good enough shot that Shaun was willing to take that gamble, to make himself look above suspicion."
Joe sighed. "Look, I have a lot of respect for the police. My grandpa, dad, and brother: all cops. But you've really come up with some wild theories, Captain, and you've really made things worse, in a lot of ways. I'm not going to blame you entirely for the aftermath of your whole masquerade with Frank. It was worth a try, I guess, but it's not going to work a second time. It's not going to work to send no one, either. You've got to send me tonight instead of running around, trying to accuse my friends of being criminal masterminds."
"Yes, mistakes have been made in this case," Gomez admitted, "but you've made your share, too. You've given me no reason to trust that you're actually going to do what I tell you to. I'm sorry, Joe, but I'm not putting you or my officers at risk by letting you go to that meeting."
