Everyone needs help sometime
Chapter 10
Sam and Fi were on their way to the home of The Butcher's mother.
Earlier Fi had called The Butcher's mother, telling her she had won the Publisher's Clearing House consolation prize of $15,000 and needed to collect the winnings in Orlando. Fi figured the woman would be gone for three hours, tops.
Roberto was at the wheel as Fi sat in front with him, Sam in the back. It was decided that Roberto would park the car out of sight and then bring the car back around to them in 45 minutes.
"Are you sure there are no dogs at Mama Butcher's place?" Sam asked from the back.
Fi wondered why he even asked, "Sam, let's just put it this way, if you hear 'woof woof' floating through the air, expect at least one dog."
"Funny, Fi," said Sam sarcastically, "and if they do come, I'll just do cat sounds while at the same time pointing to you."
"My friends," Roberto interjected, "Is this how you two will talk to each other the entire way?"
"Yes," Sam and Fi said in unison.
"Sam started it," Fi insisted as she folded her arms in front of her, "Talking to me as if I'm the dog whisperer!"
"I just don't want to be surprised by attacking dogs, is all, " claimed Sam.
"Dogs are just like people," exclaimed Fi, "If they rush you, just bop them hard on the nose. Hopefully you'll break their nose... they're back off pretty quick."
"Wow," commented Sam, "You're the only person I know where firing a gun is the more humane thing to do."
They had reached their destination. Roberto made a right hand turn into a darkened path leading to the residence of Hunter's mother.
"I can go no further," announced Roberto, "this is where I will take leave of you two, and none too soon!"
Roberto remained in his seat as the two opened the door to leave.
"Good luck, mi amigos," he added, "and with each other."
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Sam and Fi covertly snuck up the driveway.
If they had expected The Butcher's mother to live simply and humbly, they were wrong. Obviously she had been well provided for by her murderous son. The place was almost like a villa, with its green lushness, curving driveway and luxurious residence.
The entire house was surrounded with shrubs, so they hid behind a section of greenery outside the gate of the house.
"Fi!" whispered Sam, from behind the bushes, "Are you sure there are no dogs here?"
"Stop asking me about dogs, Sam!" she responded in a low tone.
"Well, people definitely aren't your forte!" Sam shot back.
"Sssshhh!" she shushed him as she looked around.
"See? Perfect example of not relating to people!" Sam whispered back.
Fi disconnected the electronic alarm at the gate and they hurriedly entered inside. They now both stood behind a tree, their senses alert on the grounds of the estate.
It was a warm, tropical evening, the air was fresh and the fragrance of a newly trimmed lawn lingered in the night air.
Cautiously and slowly they made their way closer towards the house, past more shrubs and trees and through a garden with a bubbling water fountain. There were a couple of lights on inside the place, but that didn't necessarily mean someone was home. The lights, for example, could be set on a timer.
They continued to keep their voices low.
"Sam, listen!" Fi instructed, "We need to separate in order to cover as much area as possible…this place is huge."
"What, are my eyes closed? " Sam whispered back, "I can see that!"
"I'll check the perimeter, make sure no one is lurking on the outside,"volunteered Fi,"I'll be able to cover much more ground in a shorter amount of time than you."
Sam looked at her in the darkness, "You're a bossy little trainee spy, aren't you? You do realize there is no 'I' in team, don't you?"
"Yes," Fi responded "but if you look closely, there's a 'me' in it."
Sam rolled his eyes.
"So here's the plan,"strategized Fi, "After I check the grounds, I'll get in the house and check the rooms downstairs."
"So you're basically going to check the outside grounds and the inside floor of the house?" asked Sam, "What does that leave me to check? The mailbox?"
"You can check the upstairs for any clues, Sam. I have a feeling that if there is any info on Mrs. Butcher's son, it'll be found in her personal effects up in her bedroom."
"Makes sense," Sam nodded, "…except…how am I suppose to get up to the second floor?"
She gestured with her head towards the second floor terrace.
"That balcony looks negotiable," Fi suggested nonchalantly.
Sam looked up and although Fi could not see his expression, she knew he was scowling.
"I'm supposed to just climb up to the second floor? " asked Sam, now pointing down to his bandaged thigh, "Hel-loo,...shot in the leg, remember?"
Now Fi rolled her eyes.
"I knew it! I knewit!" whispered an exasperated Fi, "I knew you'd throw in the 'poor me I'm shot ' excuse! It's not like you're climbing Mt. Everest!"
"You know how I hate climbing, Fi!" countered Sam.
"All you need to remember," advised Fi, "is that if you hold on, you can't fall off!"
"Again...quick reminder...bullet lodged in leg?"
Fi gave a huge sigh.
"Okay, Fine! Have it your way, Sam!...I'll check the second floor…and as for you...you can just make sure there is enough water in the water fountain!"
Sam heaved an annoyed sigh, "Crap! I get it! Second floor here I come!"
Even in the dark, he could tell Fi was grinning.
"I'm only kidding about the self-climbing part, Sam." Fi said as she dug in the backpack and produced climbing cables, "Here!"
"Give me that!" Sam said, as he grabbed them, "See you in half an hour!"
"Fine by me! " agreed Fi.
She didn't linger to watch Sam do a limping balcony climb, since half an hour wasn't very long to explore an entire estate.
In earnest, Fi began by circling the perimeter of the house, watching for any clues that someone else may still be on the premises. Looking through the bottom floor windows, she saw a great deal of tapestry, damask and Louis XV furniture.
She then noted all of the windows were tightly shut. Of course. She'd have to jimmy one opened. Or perhaps it was best she entered through the back door.
She went by way of tree and then another tree, towards the back of the house, trying to keep her body hidden as much as possible. As she looked around, she felt her eyes were growing more accustomed to the night.
And that's when she heard it.
The snap of a twig behind her.
She turned in time to see a shadow quickly move behind a tree.
Someone was following her.
Sam? She initially thought. If that was him, she was going to kill him for playing hide and seek with her. But then she recalled that the shadow had dashed behind that tree; Sam would have limped.
Definitely not Sam, she concluded.
Fi's lips curved into a smile. Sometimes it could be fun being a spy trainee, she thought.
.
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While Agent Pearce waited for the call from Rikers prison, she scanned the file of Gideon Hunter, aka The Butcher. According to the file, Hunter was sentenced to an incredible 220 years in prison.
Agent Pearce stared at one of the few pictures they had of Hunter. She noted the bland and expressionless face that nature had given him. Nothing really distinguishing at all. He was everyman and yet No-Man. The perfect surface for innumerable disguises.
The call came through from Rikers at last. The Warden had been dispatched to talk to Agent Pearce. After identifying herself, she skipped any friendly formalities.
"Is Gideon Hunter still in your prison system?" Pearce was all business.
At the same time, assistant Thomas Wright walked in her office with coffee for Pearce. She nodded her appreciation. Her face has half buried in her hand as she propped her elbow on her desk, listening carefully to the Warden's response.
Thomas Wright quietly sat down and waited for the completion of the call. The voice on the other end was so emotionally loud that it forced Pearce to move the receiver a few inches from her ear. When she hung up at last, she looked shaken.
"So, what's the news, Dani?" asked Wright, "Did The Butcher escape from Rikers or what?"
"Worse, I'm afraid," Pearce responded as she leaned back and wiped her face with her hands as she worked to recover.
"What could be worse than that?"
"He was pardoned!" Pearce heaved a big sigh.
"What?" Wright looked incredulous, "b-but how was that even possible with his record?"
"Believe me, the Warden got an earful from the DA and law enforcement officials, who were livid, incensed, furious and any other angry synonym you can think of over this!"
"So...it was an awful mistake?" Wright asked.
Pearce heaved a sigh, "Evidently, the government launched a very hush-hush investigation, thinking it was one big egregious error. But unfortunately it wasn't that; big money was involved. According to the Warden, this fiasco occurred due to power, influence and bribes distributed here, there and everywhere, starting from the higher ups, all the way down. He had no choice but to follow orders."
Wright looked incredulous, "Sheesh! I bet heads will roll now!"
"Well, there's the rub." Pearce said, still looking shell-shocked, "Most of the paper trail has been cleverly disposed of. It's an election year so the official account will be that The Butcher was pardoned for good behavior. The truth will never get out."
"Oh man..." Tom fretted, "Too bad you couldn't call Agent Glenanne in to get rid of The Butcher because I bet she could do it!"
Pearce smiled knowingly; seems as if her assistant was slightly infatuated with Glenanne, "that is the irony of the situation, isn't it?"
"It's just," Tom's eyes were bright, "she always knows what to do in all dire circumstances."
Although Pearce too admired how Fiona held up thus far, the situation required some type of different action.
"True," Pearce agreed,"But we don't even know if Agent Glenanne is aware of Hunter, and she definitely needs to be warned of the danger."
"So what happens now?" Tom asked.
"What happens now," began Pearce slowly, deep in thought, "is...we need to abort the current mission. Call Harry in from the field. Form a new, larger, team to expertly bring down Gideon Hunter."
Her assistant nodded, "And Agent Glenanne?"
Pearce heaved a deep breath out, "She needs to be relieved of the mission...we'll tell her it's because...she hasn't been reporting in and that's against agency policy."
"She won't like that," Tom warned.
"Agent Glenanne should be thankful she hasn't been captured," Pearce declared, "although I can't say the same for Westen. And I don't know how she'll react when she finds out that Michael is missing."
"Not a good situation, Dani."
"No, it isn't," admitted Pearce, truthfully, "But I can't worry about them now. We have to assume they can hold their own until we can locate them."
Even Pearce cringed at what she just said. She then added, "Right now, my time needs to be spent on securing an experienced team. "
"What shall I do?" asked Tom attentively.
"Make the call to Harry," Pearce announced, "He's been instructed to keep his line open 24/7."
"Right away," Tom said as he turned to leave, shutting the door behind him.
Pearce was not looking forward to the next 24 hours. She hated pulling the plug on Glenanne's first mission. Especially since Fiona has more than proven herself when things did not go right.
Perhaps Pearce could convince Glenanne to work in coordination with her other field officers in retrieving Westen from wherever hell place he was. For his own sake, he better be in trouble if Glenanne is to rescue him.
Her mind now switched to the idea that The Butcher was operating in Tampa. The warden had stated that this fiasco occurred due to power, influence and bribes distributed here, there and everywhere. If that was true, the rogue CIA agents were growing in strength. They needed to be stopped. And soon.
Her door opened again as Tom Wright, her assistant, stuck his head in.
Pearce turned towards the direction of her assistant.
"You've got Harry on the line for me?" Pearce asked.
Trepidation gripped her when she saw Tom's grim expression.
"More bad news," said Tom, solemnly, "Harry's not picking up."
.
.
Michael is slowly coming to.
The same growling voice sounds demanding.
"Where are they?"
(So that's what "Wer-air-et"meant, Michael internalized.)
He still feels in a fog as he forced his voice box to work.
It comes out a dry whisper.
"W-who?"
"The small woman. The Hawaiian shirt man."
Fi? Sam? Michael thinks.
Michael is silent.
His head snaps sideways as he feels a hard, stinging slap.
.
Later, Michael is walking. He is blindfolded and his hands are tied behind his back. He just remembers lots of small dots of light as he continued down this hallway. There are hands on either side of his shoulder, making sure he is moving forward. They enter a room and suddenly stop.
The hands then roughly pull him down.
At first he's sitting, then he's lying down. As Michael moves his head left and right, a belt is tightened across his chest. It feels as though he was lassoed onto a hard surface.
Suddenly the dots of light are gone.
The table twirls. Michael's equilibrium is thrown. It suddenly stops but he is slightly dizzy.. Could he now be...upside down?
"We keep him," a voice says.
"Alive?" another voice asks.
"He'll be our prisoner," the first voice verifies, "so we can do what we want."
"But remember, keep him alive," reminds the other.
A giant hand covers Michael's mouth and it affects his nose.
I can't breathe! Michael panics.
He tries to move but someone is holding his head so that he can't even turn. The hand presses down harder on his face.
Michael is in distress. His body jerks, but all he's doing is wasting his energy. Yet, his body is only reacting because he knows he's being smothered.
No air.
Opening his mouth, Michael tries to take in as much air as he can. Must inhale in order to live.
And just when he feels as though it could not get worse. It does.
Water is thrown right a his face as he jerks left, then right.
Noooo! His arms and legs try to flail, but they are tied down. He must remain calm, he must think. His spy instincts have taught him that he must find a way to t breathe, to stay alive.
But it is hard to when water is filling up his throat and into his nose.
He chokes and his lungs are burning, about to burst. Michael tries to move, but he can't.
Some more water is tossed at him and the entire cycle begins again.
Air, he needs air.
He must survive!
Fiiiii.
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