Lucky rushed to the door and flung it open. "What is it?"
Suspicious silence met his question. Lucky glanced around the room, finding no-one.
"Andamo? Was that you?" he called.
Silence. Lucky pondered. He started to step forward when his foot stepped on something sharp, creating a sickening crunch.
Lucky sucked in his breath. Stepping backwards, he saw broken glass, with dark purple stains. Lucky recognized it as one of his fancy grape juices, as some people called it. But the sight that made his stomach tighten was Andamo's bracelet, which lay among the shattered bottle. Gingerly, he reached down and picked it up, the knot in his stomach growing. In his mind, he could hear Clement voicing his threats.
Suddenly the hard realization struck him; His friend Andamo had been kidnapped!
Perhaps one of Clement's goons knocked him out with a bottle as he tried to reach me!
Clutching the bracelet tightly in his fist, he rushed to the deck just in time to see a speed boat hurrying away. Spewing a curse, he ran to the phone and dialed as quickly as his shaking fingers would let him.
"Hello? Operator, please get me Clegg Pudge...Pudge? It's Lucky. I'm sorry I disturbed you, but I need a launch right now...yes, it's an emergency...thank you, please hurry...yes, yes...good-bye."
He then hung up. Opening the drawer, the pulled out his gun and tucked it into his jacket. Although he hoped he wouldn't have to use it, he would if it was the only thing he could do to save his partner.
The sound of a speed boat could soon be heard. Lucky was relieved as he hurried outside and hopped onto the launch.
"Where to, Lucky?" asked Pudge.
"Did you see that boat, can you follow it?" asked Lucky.
"Sure thing, Mister," nodded Pudge as the launch sped off.
Lucky clung to the pole as the ship sped to shore, praying it wasn't too late to save Andamo.
Just hold on, buddy, I'm coming as fast as I can.
…...
It seemed like hours before the launch finally reached the shore. As Lucky headed to the garage to get his car, he asked every passerby he saw if they had seen the boat. One woman reported seeing a small boat with two people in it, one of them unconscious, and they left in a dark cyan 1956 Ford Sunliner. However, she did not know where it went, nor what the license plate was.
Lucky pulled out a cigarette and lit it, trying to calm himself. He wavered between contacting Rovacs or trying to trace the car. But Lucky knew Rovacs wasn't going to do anything about it, and without the license plate or the VIN, there was no hope of tracking the car down. But there was one alternative; if he could find out where Clement lived or the places he would hang out at, then he could track him down. But if he wanted to do that, he would have to talk to the stingy Lieutenant.
Sighing, he walked into the garage and started up his car. Pulling the hood up, he drove out into the rain, his focus on the road. He had one mission and only one; to save his friend from death for something he had nothing to do with.
…...
"So let me get this straight; Clement hired somebody to knock out Andamo and take him someplace? And you say if you don't refund his bet he's going to kill him?"
"Yes," Lucky sighed, exasperated, "But he knows the policy, and he knows that when he gambles he's at risk of loosing money. Now, I don't ever recommend gambling to everyone because of this, and I've actually tried to talk a few people out of it, but he went on ahead and did it. He made an agreement, and now he's trying to break it."
"Look Lucky, I believe you," said Rovacs, "But without concrete evidence there's nothing I can do."
"Lieutenant," Lucky protested, "I'm trying to work on that, but Andamo is in danger and if you don't apprehend that guy Andamo will be very dead! I will not let an innocent man who has nothing to do with this be killed!"
"Lucky, telling me this is not enough," said Rovacs, "So why waste your time with this when you know the rules; no evidence, no help."
"Rovacs," said Lucky, leaning on the Lieutenant's desk, "All I'm asking is that you try to find the vehicle. Just put Peter Gunn on that case. In the meantime, just tell me where Clement lives, or where he likes to spend his time."
"Oh sure," said Rovacs, "He lives on 7th Street, a few miles from here. He owns the little blue house with cyan trimming. It's the only house on the block that's matches the description. As for his hangout places, well, he likes casinos. If he's not at home, he's in the casino or some other gaming place. He shouldn't be too hard to find."
"I hope not," said Lucky, "Well, I'd better go look for him. Good evening, Rovacs."
Lucky shut the door before Rovacs could respond.
…...
Andamo's eyes fluttered. Everything was just a big blur. He blinked again. He could see a little more clearly now, but the whole place was pitch-black and he had no idea where he was. As he became more awake, he realized he propped upright on something. As he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, the throbbing in his head worsened.
"Ooh boy, I must have fallen off the wrong side of the bed," he mumbled as he sank back onto the bags of flour. He glanced around some more. "Where the dickens am I?"
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw cracks of light through the door. He also saw what looked like stacks of wine.
"I'm in a wine cellar!" he realized out-loud, "But boy, this sure ain't Lucky's!"
The door creaked open. "You're quite right, Mr. Andamo."
The cold, cruel voice made Andamo cringe. "Who are you?"
"I am Bing Moreen," came the reply, "I am to make sure you are comfortable during your stay."
"And how long will that be?" demanded Andamo boldly.
The big shadow smirked. "That will depend on how soon Lucky decides to take action. For your own sake, he'd better pay quickly, or he could loose himself a partner. But I have bigger plans."
Andamo's stomach twisted. "Bigger plans?"
"Yes," said the man, "What happens when Lucky finally decides his partner is more important, repays the money, and—Ho!-just imagine the looks on his face when he finds out he spent fifty thousand dollars on a corpse!"
Andamo gulped as the man roared in evil laughter. "That corpse will be me, by some coincidence."
"Precisely, Señor!" praised the man, "But until then, I must give you a... shall we say, a bit of a makeover?"
Andamo fought to keep the butterflies in his stomach from jumping out. "But, uh, don't you think I look fine enough?"
The shadowy figure shook his head. "I'm afraid not, my dear Andamo. I want Lucky to pour fifty thousand dollars into a good-looking corpse. One that will make his blood curdle!"
Andamo was horrified. "I gets it now; you're gonna torture me bloody until you get what you want."
"Yes indeed. And speaking of which, shall we begin and get it over with?" asked the eerie voice.
"Eh, do I have much of a choice?" asked Andamo, trying to keep his voice calm.
Before the figure could answer, a rough, stern voice broke the silence.
"Moreen! Come up here this instant!"
Moreen took a glance backwards. "I'm afraid I shall have to postpone your little makeover until I find out what Clement wants."
"That's fine. Do take your time," said Andamo.
"Thank you, Señor," said Moreen, closing the door. There was the sound of a lock, then fading footsteps. Andamo waited to make sure he was out of earshot. He scooted himself as close as he could to a shelf and pulled down a bottle, breaking it. He flinched slightly at the noise, expecting to hear the sound of angry footsteps. But all was silent, so Andamo rubbed at his bonds with a shard of glass. Unfortunately, the process was slow, and Andamo was beginning to tire. If I can get these bonds loose enough, maybe I can snap them with brute force.
Andamo worked on them a little more. After a while he felt them loosen, and with one mighty heave he snapped them. The Latino sighed in relief until saw his wrists, which were raw, blistering, and bloody. He also noticed his bracelet was gone. Those goons must have taken it! He thought sadly. It had been a gift from his now deceased sister, whom he had been very close to, and he was never without it. Shrugging, he resumed cutting the ropes that held his feet. That done, he got up and listened at the door, and, hearing no one, opened it just a crack. The hall was dimly lit, but no one was around. Andamo hurried out, quietly, into the hall.
Now what do I do? There are so many doors. Boldly, the Latino flung open a door, expecting someone to jump out at him. But all was clear as he surveyed the flight of stairs leading down. An escape route!
He hurried down the marble stairs, trying not to trip as he made his way down the stairs. Once at the bottom, he saw another door that he assumed was an exit. He raced out that door, and the next, which finally led to the outside. Thank Heaven!But now what do I do?Walk to the police station?
Andamo decided to get walking, keeping an eye out for any patrol cars, policemen, and of course, Lucky or thugs. Perhaps he could get a taxi to take him to the dock, and then he could rent a boat and sail back to the Fortuna.
Andamo reached into his pocket and frowned. His money was gone, taken by that no-good lout, no doubt. Guess I'll just have to keep walking.
As he walked, he surveyed the quiet downtown and the starry night sky. It was almost relaxing, and Andamo's pace quickened with new-found energy. Straightening his white short-sleeved shirt, he walked on, the streetlights guiding him through the little town.
After walking a few miles, Andamo was hungry. He passed several restaurants, but had no money. He tried to ignore the growling in his stomach, but it began to get annoying. Finally, he reached a house with a tree full of crab apples in its front yard. Andamo gingerly plucked a small one off the tree, figuring no one would care about loosing one that size. He bit into it, the sour flavor tickling his taste-buds, his body craving the food. Oh, how he wanted another one. But he knew he had to get out of town, so he carried on. Once or twice he thought about hailing down a cab, but decided against it.
I hope I can find my way back.
Andamo carried on, but the night air was chilly, his feet were sore, and his body was tried. He wanted to lie down someplace, but he couldn't stop, or Clement's thugs would get him. If only he could find a phone and call Lucky or Rovacs. But phone calls cost money, and Andamo didn't have a penny with him.
However, his luck seemed to get better when he passed a house with its lights on. That means somebody's home!
Andamo hurried to the door as fast as his shaking legs would let him. His feverish body trembled as he rung the doorbell. Suddenly, his legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed to the ground.
The door opened, revealing a dark haired woman in her early thirties. She glanced around, seeing no one. "Hello?"
"I'm down here." said Andamo, looking up.
The woman seemed startled. "Who are you, and what do you want?" she demanded, her tone frightened.
Andamo pulled himself up and held onto the railing for support. "My name is Andamo. I work on Mr. Lucky's yacht the Fortuna II. I need to make a call. Do you mind if I use your phone?"
The girl eyed him suspiciously. "Why don't you use the payphone?"
"Well..." began Andamo, "It's a long story, but I've just escaped being held prisoner by a Benito Clement, and he took all my pocket money. I need to call Lucky or the police to take me back. I've been walking for hours until I saw your lights."
The woman nodded, her green eyes full of understanding. "All right," she said as she let him in.
"Thank you so much, Señorita," said Andamo as he limped over to the couch and sat down.
The woman gasped. "You're hurt!"
Andamo looked down at his bloodied wrists and nodded.
"Just sit here and I'll go get something for it," she said as she disappeared down a narrow hallway.
"Thanks," muttered Andamo as he sank into the cushions.
The woman appeared again with a first aid kit. She sat beside him and applied an ointment onto his wrists. "That should help them heal," she said, "You've got some nasty cuts, but they'll heal quickly."
"Good," said Andamo, "And I really appreciate the help, Miss, uh-"
"Edsel," said the woman, "I'm Zuleika Gregory Edsel. I'm just a secretary for a little company in this town. I just got home."
"You work late, eh?" asked Andamo.
Zuleika nodded and applied the bandages. "Yes. But it's a well-paying job, and my boss is great. I can live comfortably off it."
"That's good," said Andamo, his voice strained.
Zuleika looked up at him. "Are you all right? You sound very tired, and...a little ill."
Andamo couldn't deny it; his throat was sore, he was tired and out of breath, and cold all over. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so miserable. "I have been walking in the cold inadequately dressed," he admitted, "But I'm sure it's nothing a warm fire can't cure."
Zuleika eyed him seriously. "I think you'd better spend the night," she said, "You're in no shape to travel. I promise I'll get you home tomorrow. I have spare pajamas and an extra toothbrush you can borrow."
Andamo glanced around the warm room. "Why thank you, Miss, I really appreciate it."
Zuleika smiled and tucked her straight neck-length hair behind her ear. "Anytime."
Andamo's stomach growled. "Sorry," he said with a weak smile as he put a hand over his stomach, "I'm really hungry. Do you have anything I can snack on?"
"Of course, you poor man," said Zuleika, "I have fruit, crackers, and cheese."
"All sounds good to me," Andamo smiled.
Zuleika smiled. "All right. And I think I'll get us some mint tea, too. That should warm you up."
Andamo watched with a weak smile as she assembled a fruit and cheese plate and brought it to the coffee table as the tea brewed. They then sat and chatted until the kettle whistled. Andamo watched the young woman pour the warm liquid into two cups and set them on the coffee table. "There," she said, "That should do the trick."
Andamo plucked a green grape off the plate and took a sip of tea. "It does. Thank you."
Zuleika smiled. "Tell me, Andamo, what was going on?"
"Well, it's sort of a long story," Andamo told her the whole story from kidnapping to escape. Zuleika put a hand to her mouth.
"Really? How horrible! I've heard of Clement, and I knew he held up the big shots, but, golly! I'm so sorry you went through that!"
"Me too," said Andamo, "Say, uh, do you mind if I use your phone? I at least should tell Lucky that I'm here."
"Of course," said Zuleika, "It's right over there."
Andamo got up and hobbled on over to the counter and dialed the Fortuna's number. He stood there for about a minute, and then hung up. "He must be out," he said, "It just kept ringing. I could call Rovacs, but I doubt he's willing to take me back. Besides, Lucky has the key."
"I think you're better off here for now." said Zuleika, "I promise I'll drive you home first thing tomorrow, since it's my day off."
"Thank you, Zuleika," said Andamo, "Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll shower and turn in."
"All right," she said, "I'll show you were the bathroom is."
She put her arm around his shoulders and started to escort him down the hall when the sound of a door being brutally flung open sounded.
"Stay where you are!" a cruel voice sounded, "Both of you. If anyone's stupid enough to make any sudden moves he or she is going to end up dead on the ground!"
Zuleika started at the dark stranger in horror. "Benito! Whatever in the world is going on?"