Chapter Fifteen: Trying to Survive

He had a good look around at his new surrounding, or at least what he could see of it. They had moved him from the room upstairs to a place within the basement. Unlike the bedroom, where he could pace and walk to stretch his legs, this place was small and cramped. He wasn't entirely sure but he figured that it might be a storage locker of some sort. He could smell the damp concrete smell and even more sickening the smell of urine. It made his stomach churn, which only served to remind him that he hadn't eaten in the last few days. Had it been days? It had to have been because the hours couldn't drag on so impossibly long. But if days had passed then why was he still here? Why hadn't anybody been able to find him yet? He felt like screaming and making a racket. He couldn't. His throat was dry and he was quickly running out of energy. More than anything he wanted to shake the feeling of impending doom.

Something about this situation really bothered him.

But he couldn't put his finger on it.

All he knew was that it wasn't what it seemed.

And that scared him.

--

Martin tried like hell to act the part of a man used to working manual labor and going to bars after shift to get drunk. He just wasn't sure he could pull it off so convincingly. He never thought he would find himself in such a seedy place. The walls were covered in peeling wallpaper that had been yellowed from years of cigarette smoke. Stains of all sorts dotted the floor like spots on an Appaloosa. He didn't even want to think what had made most of them. For once he was happy that he wasn't wearing his expensive Italian leather shoes. Sitting on the bar stool beside him was Rafi. They were dressed like many of the other men in the dark bar. He just couldn't get over the fact that he was actually doing this, that he was sitting on a sticky stool in a seedy bar with an ex-convict. What would his father have to say to him?

He actually smiled at the thought of his father's disdain.

Maybe when all was said and done he'd share this little adventure with daddy dearest, show him that he was never going to be the son that Victor Fitzgerald wanted.

Sipping his beer to keep up appearances he leaned slightly sideways. "When do we start getting somewhere? I can't stand sitting here for much longer. It's making me feel useless."

"Cool your jets," Rafi said, his voice its normal tone while Martin had been whispering. "Things happen when things happen. Force them to happen and people will get suspicious of you. And then you'll get your ass kicked to the curb."

"Okay." He sipped his beer again, not letting any of the liquid pass his lips. There was no way in hell he was going to get wasted in a place like this. He needed to keep his wits about him, be able to make snap judgments. He began to bounce his leg nervously as the minutes turned to hours. He watched through the tinted-window as the sun went down and the city came to life in a whole new way. The empty stools and tables began to fill up with all sorts of people. He pegged a few of them as drug traffickers and others as pimps. It was amazing how much his job had taught him. It was also amazing that he'd never been to this bar before, what with all the lowlifes he'd crossed paths with, this seemed to be their hangout of choice.

As it neared ten-o-clock the men grew rowdier, the alcohol coursing through their systems making them talk a little louder than necessary, laughing at jokes that weren't funny and some were even retelling the same story over and over again. A group near the back began to sing along with the song the jukebox was pumping out and not a single one of them could carry a tune. Martin was ready to give up. He couldn't take much more of this. He wanted to find Danny but this didn't look like it was working. The plan had been a failure. Now all he wanted to do was go home and shower off the stench of this particular joint before approaching the case from a new angle.

Just as he was going to suggest that they leave he heard Rafi clear his throat. Someone was approaching them. Martin felt his heart flutter in a moment of panic.

"Rafi Alvarez," the grizzled man said. "Haven't seen you 'round these parts in some months now. Getting back into those old habits?"

"Maybe," Rafi lied.

The man nodded at Martin. "Friend of yours? I ain't seen him here before."

"We've done some work together," Rafi said, sticking to the story him and Martin had thought up.

The guy gave Martin a good look up and down. "He reliable 'cause I got this job that I want you to help with. An extra set of hands never hurt."

"Yeah, he's reliable. What's the job?"

"Why don't we talk somewhere more private?"

Rafi eased off his stool. "Fine by me."

Feeling like this was the biggest mistake of his life Martin followed Danny's brother. A voice in the back of his mind began to nag at him, telling him that he needed to turn around and leave immediately. But like an idiot he kept walking. He followed the unknown man and Rafi through a backdoor that he hadn't even been aware was there. They stepped into an alley that was poorly lit. He could smell the rotting garbage and hear the rats digging around in the dumpster to his right. He was about to ask a question when one of the shadows in the alley moved. Every fiber of his being told him to run.

And he did.

--

Meanwhile, back at the FBI office, Jack stumbled across something that made the blood in his body run cold and the color drain from his face…