Chapter Twenty-Two

Fakir and Schuhmacher were still eating when they heard the front doors burst open and two men yelling for Schuhmacher. Fakir turned to look at his host, his eyes narrowed.

"What's that all about?" he wanted to know.

Schuhmacher wiped his mouth with a large napkin and stood, crossing to the doors. "I can't imagine," he said. "They sound upset." He thrust open the doors. "Here now, what's all this?" he demanded. "I was just having dinner."

The two guys hurried to the doorway. "There's a car outside," one of them announced.

"It was following us all afternoon," added the other. "I thought we'd lost it!"

Fakir stared at them. Was that the car he had caught a glimpse of? And did that mean it really might contain allies? His heart gathered speed.

Schuhmacher frowned, not sure what to think. "And now it's here, you say," he said. "What kind of car is it?"

"Just a simple dark-blue sedan," said the second. "It was from a rental agency."

"There wasn't anyone in it," the first added. "We thought they might be trying to get inside. Maybe you need to send the kid on his way."

"And risk running right into these possible intruders? Nonsense." Schuhmacher started to walk back to the table. "They won't be able to get into the house. Fakir is safest where he is right now. We'll go when we're supposed to go to get to the docks.

"But where is Anton anyway?" he went on. "He should have got back by now."

"We don't know anything about that," said the second. "You should call him and make sure everything's going alright."

"I can't do that!" Schuhmacher exclaimed. "If something is wrong, and my name and number appear on his phone, I could be connected with this gang. Right now no one knows I'm part of it. I'm supposed to be a respectable businessman. Anyway, you know Anton doesn't like to be bothered."

"Yeah, we know, but . . ." The first man trailed off, staring into the dining room. "What do you have the kid in here for?" he exclaimed. "You know Anton wanted him kept locked up!"

"That's ridiculous," Schuhmacher scoffed. "He can't get out of the house any more than anyone can get in. There's no point in cooping him in one little room."

"Still, Anton's going to be furious if he finds out," the man replied, shaking his head.

"Well, let's hope he won't," Schuhmacher said with a false smile. The venom inside it was all too obvious. The two men backed off.

Fakir sampled some more of the food. "So you're really not going to do anything about this," he said.

"The security system is on," Schuhmacher said. "If anyone tries to get into the house, we'll know it." He shoveled more food into his mouth.

Fakir did not ask further questions. It seemed strange to him if Schuhmacher was not even going to have men search the grounds, but if he was not planning on it Fakir certainly would not be the one to suggest it.

He had to wonder, however, if the security system was really the only detainment the possible intruders would encounter.

xxxx

Now that Ahiru and Autor were on the other side of the gates, inside the spacious grounds, everything seemed overwhelming. Ahiru gazed ahead at the house, awestruck.

"It's so big," she whispered. But then, snapping back to herself, she looked to Autor. "It doesn't look like anything's going on in there. What if they don't do anything and we're stuck in here?"

Autor glanced around the grounds. "Don't panic," he said. "If Charon called the police, they'll be here soon. Surely we'd be able to get out then."

"I guess so." Ahiru bit her lip. "If they're going to get Fakir out through some secret place, are we going to look all over and see if we can find it?"

"Probably. But we need to be careful," Autor said. "They very likely have high security. Alarms could go off at any time."

"What are you two doing in there?"

Both teens jumped a mile. They whirled, coming face-to-face with a stunned Charon on the other side of the gate.

"We're sorry!" Ahiru said, her voice hushed. "Those guys we were following came here and they saw our car and they were talking about getting Fakir out. And we thought maybe they'd go through some hidden passage before the police could come and . . . !"

"And you felt you had to go through and try to stop it," Charon finished.

"Not necessarily," Autor said. "Our last attempt to barge in and try to stop them utterly failed. But if nothing else, if we could find out where they're planning to go . . ."

Charon massaged the bridge of his nose. "Do what you must," he said heavily. "The police are coming. I'm praying it won't take too long."

"We'll be careful, Charon!" Ahiru tried to assure him.

Charon sighed. "I know you will." He stepped back. "Someone could see you at any time. Don't let your guard down for a minute!"

"We'll keep to the shadows," Autor said. "The moment we learn anything, we'll come back and report it to you if at all possible."

He took Ahiru's wrist, guiding her into the darkness of the thick trees around the yard. Charon watched as they snuck around the side of the manor, his stomach turning gymnastics.

"And what if it isn't possible?" he muttered under his breath. "You were keeping to the shadows when you were caught before."

At the first window they came to, Autor began to cautiously inch upward until he could see a smidgen of what was happening in the room. He stiffened in surprised delight. "Ahiru, it's Fakir!" he whispered. "He's sitting at a long table, eating."

Immediately Ahiru popped up to join him. "He is!" she squealed, much too loudly. "Oh, he's okay! It looks like they're feeding him really good!"

Autor reached to press the hair down on her head. "Be quiet," he said, still keeping his voice low. "And watch out; that businessman we've been tracking is sitting there also. He'll see us if he looks up."

Ahiru ducked below the window. "It doesn't look like they're moving him," she said. "What now?"

Autor pondered. "Let's wait here a few minutes and see what seems to be happening," he said at last. "When the police come, they'll surely try to move Fakir then."

Ahiru nodded. "Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful if we could get Fakir now and he wouldn't have to go to that third robbery!" she exclaimed.

It was a rhetorical statement. Of course it would be, and Autor had hope that perhaps they really could stop it, but he was not going to fully depend on it. Before the night was out, they still might end up at the Port of Hamburg.

Suddenly Ahiru started, something clicking in her mind. "Wait a minute!" she gasped. "What's that thing on the table? Is it . . ." She rose up again. "It is!" she wailed in a whisper. "It's a bird!"

Autor pulled her away once more. "Fakir isn't eating any," he said. "He seems to be eating everything except that."

Ahiru slumped under the window, crossing her arms. "He'd better be!" she said.

"You know Fakir hasn't eaten any fowl since you came along," Autor said. He cleared his throat. "I haven't, either," he added in a near-mutter. For both of them, it would feel far too uncomfortable, even like a betrayal, despite the fact that Ahiru was no longer a bird.

Ahiru looked up at him. "Really?" she said. "You too?"

"Yes," Autor said. "The thought of it makes me rather ill, actually."

She beamed. "Thank you, Autor. You're wonderful."

Autor went red. But at the sound of a car pulling up, he jerked to attention. "The police are here," he said, noting the blue-and-white vehicle and the currently dimmed lights affixed on top. As the officers started to get out Charon hurried over to them, presumably explaining the situation with Autor and Ahiru. They nodded, glancing towards the property.

"I think they see us," Ahiru said. She gave a tentative wave.

The policeman looked to her, giving a slight nod before heading towards the gates. His partner hastened after him, arriving just as he pressed the button.

"What is it?" barked the same gruff voice.

"This is the police," the first officer replied. "We need to speak with you about an urgent matter."

There was a brief silence. "Come in," growled the voice.

Autor looked back to the window as the police came through the gates. "They didn't say what the matter is," he noted. "Maybe they're hoping that will keep the gang from making any sudden moves." He raised just enough to peer into the room. "But if they're hoping that, it's in vain. Schuhmacher is leaping up now and pulling Fakir up too. Now he's pushing Fakir towards the door into the hall."

"Oh!" Ahiru leaped up, staring into the room. "We have to find out where they're going!"

Autor nodded. "We'll circle around the house. Come on!" He hurried further to the back and turned the corner. Ahiru chased after him, desperately praying for their success and the gang's failure.

xxxx

The search warrant did not take long to obtain, after the gang member had been brought in and Kirsch had made his statement. Soon the state police were back at the old house, knocking on the door and ordering anyone inside to let them in.

Kirsch had been allowed to accompany them, for which he was grateful. He lingered behind them and to the side as they gathered around the door. If it should suddenly burst open, he would be ready.

But there was no answer to the detectives' calls, and after a moment longer they kicked the door in and entered. No one was in sight. Frowning, they moved to the stacks of crates in the living room.

One of them turned a box on every possible side before discovering what they needed to see. "Look at this!" he exclaimed. "It's the name of a company robbed here in Hamburg several weeks ago!"

Kirsch's eyes lit up. "This should be enough to get a warrant out on Schuhmacher's arrest, shouldn't it?"

The second detective nodded. "It's quite an intricate set-up they've had going on," he said. "It's time we brought it all to an end." After examining several other crates, he took out his cellphone.

Kirsch wandered to the doorway to peer into the next room. More crates were piled in there. He advanced to find the name stamped on them.

All the while his thoughts were turning over in concern. There had still been no word from Charon and the kids. What on earth had happened? What kind of trouble could they have gotten into?

He could not help wondering if he should have stayed with them. But someone had needed to be at this house too. The inadvertent words about Anton from the criminal at this house were helping to tie Schuhmacher in with the gang, as Kirsch had hoped.

One of the detectives came to the doorway and looked in on him. "We've had another lucky break," he announced.

Kirsch started and looked up. "What's that?" he queried in surprise.

"There's already a warrant out for Schuhmacher on suspicion of kidnapping. That abducted boy's friends reported seeing him in the window at a place in a fancier part of town." The man smiled, seeing Kirsch's expression changing to excitement. "The police are out there now checking into it."

"And his friends are alright?" Kirsch asked. "The father too?"

"He made the call," was the reply. "The gang probably has some more tricks up their sleeves, but I'm holding out hope that we'll get this boy back tonight."

Kirsch nodded. "Me too," he said fervently. "It's past time for it."

xxxx

Fakir was not pleased to be rushed down the long corridor and then through a large library into yet another hall. "Where are we going?" he demanded. "We're both going to get indigestion!"

"I'm going to get you out of here," Schuhmacher retorted. "Apparently I made a mistake; there was more going on than I even considered." He did not stop to look back at the sound of the doorbell. Someone else would get that, and he intended to have Fakir out of the house by then.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Fakir shot back. He continued to hurry along, not that he had much choice with Schuhmacher shoving him all the way.

"There will be men who will explain it to you," Schuhmacher told him. "I may need to stay here to try to cover up whatever this is about."

Fakir's lips curled in a sneer. "Maybe you can't," he said. "Maybe someone's on to you."

"Well, if they are, it had better not be through your doing," Schuhmacher snapped.

"When would I have had the chance to do anything?" Fakir countered.

Schuhmacher pushed him into a back den and followed, shutting the door behind them. "How should I know? Maybe you carved something in your mashed potatoes when I wasn't looking." He dragged Fakir across the room and over to the fireplace. Upon pressing in a particular brick, he stepped back as the entire structure swung aside to reveal a tunnel. He pulled Fakir inside.

"This leads to a guesthouse in the backyard," he said as he began walking, his hand tightly curled around Fakir's wrist. In his other hand he gripped a flashlight. "When we come up, there will be another passageway to take inside there. It will lead to a vacant field off the property. We keep a car stashed there in an old shed."

"That's convenient," Fakir grunted. He gritted his teeth, longing to pry the thick hand away from his arm. That was going to leave a mark.

"Indeed it is," Schuhmacher sneered. "And no one can find it unless they either examine the field or inside one of the houses. There is no way to spot it from the grounds of the property."

"Bully for you," Fakir said. "But do you really think that's going to stop the police?" As he saw it, there was no harm in trying to rattle the guy a bit. Maybe he would slip up and make a mistake.

"They don't have anything on me," Schuhmacher said. "There's no reason for them to stay around."

"Maybe you're wrong," Fakir said.

They came to a series of stone steps. Schuhmacher pulled him down, forcing him to hold onto the wall in lieu of a banister. But Fakir was not deterred. He made it to the bottom easily, continuing to talk.

"Just think about how the police have been around lately," he said. "They jumped on the first robbery pretty quick, and they were there to overturn the second. Why couldn't they have connected you with Anton's gang?"

Even in the dim light, it was starting to look like Schuhmacher was turning purple. "They couldn't have!" he exclaimed. "I've left no tracks. None at all!"

"I guess you thought changing your last name so it was different than Anton's was clever," Fakir said. "But they still both mean about the same thing. Maybe someone made the connection."

"No one could have made the connection!" Schuhmacher boomed.

"Have it your way," Fakir said. "But at least now maybe you're thinking that you did something stupid."

By now they had arrived at another series of steps, these ones going up. Schuhmacher sprang up them faster than Fakir had thought possible. Fakir nearly stumbled on one, but managed to catch his balance.

They stopped at a wall shortly after coming to the landing of the stairs. Schuhmacher pressed on a stone block, pushing it inward and causing another panel to fly outward. He stepped through, giving the well-furnished room they were entering an inspective glance.

"Everything's in order," he announced.

"Did you think it wouldn't be?" Fakir said. "Face it, you're nervous."

Schuhmacher turned to face him, his nostrils flaring. "Shut up, you miserable brat!" he roared.

Fakir did not so much as flinch. "You're nervous, but I'm not," he said. "I'm not afraid of you."

"If you're not, you should be afraid of Anton," Schuhmacher responded.

"Like you are?" Fakir said as he was pulled across the room and into another secret tunnel.

Schuhmacher snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, boy. I'm not afraid of my own brother. Especially when I know I can overtake his empire and make it my own any time I wish."

"If you could, you wouldn't have needed to try to get me to help you," Fakir pointed out. "You're in a pretty big plight. You've got the police coming to check something out. And then you've also got Anton getting ticked off at you for not getting me out of here as soon as you should have. And by the way, weren't there supposed to be men waiting here to explain things to me?"

Schuhmacher did not slow down. "They must have taken a break," he said.

"Maybe they're making a break for it," Fakir said.

Schuhmacher refused to answer. He did not speak again until they came to a ladder nailed into the wall. Above it was a trapdoor.

"Climb," he ordered, finally releasing Fakir's sore wrist. "At the top, undo the latch and get out. I will be right behind you."

Fakir obeyed. Part of him wondered if there would be any chance he could make a break for it after getting out. Schuhmacher did not seem to be armed—although Fakir could be wrong about that. But if Fakir was able to run without any hindrances, he was sure he could easily outrun the heavy man.

The cool night air washed over him as soon as he pushed up the trapdoor. He climbed out, whirling around instantly. Schuhmacher was indeed right behind him. But he was not out yet. Without warning Fakir kicked the trapdoor shut. The man gave a howl of anger from inside.

Fakir turned and fled, his heart pounding as he soared over the grass and weeds.

I really am going to get indigestion, he thought to himself. But if I can get away, it'll be worth it.

He avoided the shed altogether. It was possible that the men who had been supposed to be in the guesthouse were instead with the car. It would be stupid to try to tangle with them. And besides, Fakir had no idea how to drive anyway.

Would he make it? Was there any way he could get out of here and find his way to the police? He would be safe then, and maybe they would know how to get in touch with Ahiru and Charon. If they were alright, they would be looking for him. There was no doubt at all in his mind about that.

Was Schuhmacher running after him? It did not sound like anyone was behind him. Maybe Fakir was going too fast for him to keep up. Or maybe the trapdoor had smacked the guy on the head and he was lying dazed or unconscious on the tunnel floor.

Fakir would not be charged if Schuhmacher was badly hurt or even dead, would he? He was in a terrible situation, not knowing from one moment to the next what these ruthless monsters were going to do to him and his loved ones. And he did not even know what Schuhmacher had intended to do with him now. Take him to the docks? Run off with him in the hopes that Fakir would help him instead? Would he have forced Fakir to help him?

Fakir kept running, his thoughts coming in one long, frantic stream. The field just kept going on forever. Maybe he should turn and run another way. But which way would even take him back to the houses? He was completely turned around.

The gun in his face brought him to an abrupt halt. He swallowed hard, breathing heavily.

Anton Schuster was at the other end of the gun. He gave Fakir one of the eerily calm looks that disturbed him to no end.

"You've been quite busy tonight, haven't you, Fakir." He brought the weapon against Fakir's forehead, clicking off the safety at the same time. "Let's go, shall we?"

Fakir swore under his breath. "I hate you," he hissed.

"I'm not very fond of you, either," Anton said. "But for now, we'll both have to make do." He seized Fakir's arm. "Come."

Without a choice, Fakir went.

xxxx

Charon followed the police through the gates without their knowledge. Autor and Ahiru were roaming somewhere on the grounds. Fakir was somewhere in the house. And Charon wanted to know what was going to happen when the police asked their questions. There was no way he would stay by the car.

The man who opened the door for the officers looked like he could be the person on the intercom—gruff and unhappy with this whole development. He stood in the doorway, keeping his hand on the other door as a barrier to prevent the police from coming inside.

"What's this all about?" he demanded. "The master of the house is a very busy man."

"So we've heard," was the reply. "We have a warrant out for his arrest."

The man stood up straighter. "What are the charges?"

"Suspicion of kidnapping, accessory to criminal activity, and suspicion of robbery," the first policeman replied. "And anyone else in this house is subject to the same charges." Other than Fakir, of course. The police still thought of him as the victim in all of this. And it had been directly because of him that they had been able to arrest so many people during the second robbery. If anything, he was also being hailed as a hero.

Both of the officers and Charon all saw the man going slightly pale. But he recovered quickly. "I'm not sure if Mr. Schuhmacher is in right now," he said. "If you have a warrant, then feel free to come in and look for him."

"Thank you," the policeman nodded. As the door was opened wider, both he and his partner entered the house.

Charon lingered in the shadows, debating to himself. Fakir was likely not in the main part of the house by now. And Autor and Ahiru were on the grounds and in possible danger. He wanted to follow the officers in, announcing himself as the kidnapped boy's father, but should he go after Autor and Ahiru instead? He might even have a better chance of finding Fakir if he did.

There was no time for a lengthy debate with himself. He turned, walking with purpose towards the side of the house where the kids should appear if they were circling around.

There was no sign of them at first. He kept going, heading for the backyard. The snaking ivy clinging to the house and draping itself over several garden archways lined up one after the other to craft a sort of covering created a mysterious, eerie mood.

Could they have possibly found Fakir as that man tried to escape with him? Was there any chance that they had overpowered Schuhmacher and Fakir was now safe? No, that was too much to hope for. There had been no yelling, no sounds of a scuffle.

As he stepped out from the vines and into the backyard, he nearly collided with Ahiru. He reached out to steady her.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "Are you and Autor alright?"

Ahiru gave a vehement nod. "Yeah, we're fine!" she said. "But we found a guesthouse back here and when we looked through a window, that awful guy was dragging Fakir through it and into a door that popped open in the wall! We can't figure out where it goes!"

Charon stiffened. "Where's Autor?" he asked.

"He's looking around the house, trying to figure out how to get in or where the tunnel goes or something!" Ahiru said. "Where's the police?"

"Inside," Charon said. He hesitated for only a moment. "I'm going to go tell them what you saw. Stay here with Autor, but don't do anything foolish! Be careful!"

Ahiru gave a firm nod. "We will!" she said. "But we have to find Fakir! We just have to! He's so close!"

"I know," Charon said. He turned to rush back to the front of the house. "And every moment that goes by is critical."

He prayed they would not be too late.