Murder in the Forest, Chapter 40
As the FBI and Sheriff's cars raced toward his home, Michael Bamka loaded his escape kit into his second vehicle, a charcoal gray Nissan SUV. He liked the white van for transporting the girls or other victims, but the Pathfinder had four-wheel drive and was smaller, and might be better adapted to his immediate needs. If this situation blew wide open, he wanted to be in the Nissan. If the balloon went up, he'd kill the girls or take one along as a hostage. If the latter, he'd cover her with a blanket and hope that no one looked in and saw her. He still feared that Terry Mason was getting too sentimental about Melissa Winters, and he could sort of see why. She did seem to be bonding with him and even looked admiringly at him as she obeyed his instructions. Was she faking? About a fifty-fifty chance, he decided.
He was astounded as he drove out of his alley and saw several black SUV's with flashing emergency lights rush past two blocks away and surround his home. He had barely gotten past them, had thankfully turned the correct way to avoid them. He pulled off the road behind a neighbor's house three blocks away and used the Nikon binocular to see what they were up to. He saw some cops stride purposefully to his front door as others, wearing black tactical SWAT gear, ran to cover his rear door. They were after him!
He backed out into the street, paused to let additional sheriff's cars rush past as he lurked behind a bush, and then steered for the real estate agency to see if they were also after Mason. If so, the cause would be obvious, and he'd call Mason and sound their alarm code that meant to get the hell out of town and destroy what evidence they could as they left. This could only mean that the cops knew about the girls or the prior murder victims. This wouldn't be a matter of them being suspected of fishing without a license or getting a littering citation...
Sure enough, when he pulled up on a rise of ground that gave him a view of Mason Realty, the black SUV's and Sheriff's cars were there, cops going in and out, Mason's clerk and estate sales girls looking afraid as they were herded into a group on the lawn. No question, then. Somehow, word of their involvement in the kidnappings was out! How? Maybe the cops had deciphered some of their phone calls? Was there some other fatal flaw in their plans?
He pulled into a wooded glade and rang Mason's phone. When that worthy answered, Bamka stammered out what he'd seen and implored Mason to set explosive charges in the cabin and prepare to leave as soon as he, Bamka, arrived.
"If I'm not there in an hour, it means they got me," he cautioned. "Better kill the broads and burn them in the cabin. "
Mason asked some leading questions that satisfied him that Bamka wasn't merely overreacting to something less than what he described and agreed to shut down the operation.
"I already have my bail-out gear with me and food in the car," Mason related. "I'll set the charges and look for you. Be damned careful. If they get you, you'll go down heavy. We're both looking at life sentences for the girls, and if they know about the murders..."
"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture," snapped Bamka. "I don't plan to be taken alive. I wouldn't fare well in prison, and I don't want to put up with some smirking cop sneering at me, let alone a prison guard. Or some FBI behavioral studies agent interviewing me to see why I did what I did. That's not the way I plan to become famous, if ever. Look, I've gotta hang up and drive before they cut off all the roads out of town. I'm going to use a back way until I'm clear of where they'll probably put roadblocks. You'd better not come back this way at all."
"I won't," promised Mason. "I'd better get busy here if I'm going to be ready to split when you arrive. Take care, buddy. Don't let them get you alive." He wanted his partner to resist arrest if cornered and get killed, not just for Bamka's sake, but to keep him from revealing anything the cops didn't already know about his own role in crime.
Mason thought for ten minutes, decided that more thinking wouldn't help, and checked to see if he needed to add anything to his getaway car.
He was using a blue van for that purpose, having stored it in the garage. He parked his usual white van beside it and began transferring items to the blue vehicle, which had California license plates stolen over a year before and which he hoped wouldn't have been reported as far away as Washington. If the cops were looking for him in a white van, being in a blue one might just let him evade them, especially the dreaded air patrols.
He stocked it with more food, water, and camping supplies and then went downstairs with a small bag of lingerie and some restraints. Bamka had told him to kill both girls and leave, and that made sense.
He looked coldly past Courtney Cassidy's fearful gaze and stared at Melissa until she turned pale. Melissa sank to her knees and stared back into Mason's hooded face.
"Master?" she asked. "Is anything wrong?"
"Yes, everything has changed, in a heartbeat, you little slut. Now, listen carefully. Do you want to live? If you do, do precisely as I tell you and don't stall or argue. Got that?"
When Melissa nodded vigorously, he told her to stand back and put her cuffed hands on her head as he opened the door of her cell. As he approached the terrified girl, Mason actually saw goose bumps rise on her skin. Probably not because the room was too cold, either, he reasoned.
"Now, listen, slave, I'm going to unlock your cuffs and give you some lingerie to put on. Then, I'll lock your hands behind you and we're going to take a ride. We won't be coming back here, but if you're a good girl and obey me, you can count on living for at least the foreseeable future. Turn around and hold your hands higher and I'll unlock those cuffs for now and undo your ankles. Then, put on the things I pass to you. Understand?"
She nodded and turned, wondering what on earth was happening.
"What about me?" asked Courtney. "Aren't I coming, too? The two of us can make you very happy to have both of us, whatever this is about."
"Courtney, I have some bad news for you," Mason said. "The good news is that I'm not going to burn this place down with you in it until my partner can come here and decide for himself if he wants to take you with him when we take off. You'd be a good hostage. Stress that to him. You need to convince him that you can be more than a sex doll to him. Your life probably depends on getting him to consider you worthwhile to risk being caught with. Look hot and desirable, but mention your other practical value, especially as he's going to get lonely over the next few weeks or months as we hide out. You were a really good screw, baby, and I hope that you convince my pal to keep you with him. Those dances of yours are just super, not to mention the rest. But you might mention your housekeeping and cooking skills when you plead for your life in about an hour. Make yourself seem indispensible."
"I can be indispensible to you," she pointed out, " and Melissa and I can do threesomes with you like you've only done in your fantasies, I bet. Let me come with you? Like Melissa? I don't mind sharing you. I'm afraid of your friend."
Mason chuckled. "Nice try, honey, but Melissa is all that I can handle for awhile. And if I think she's loyal to me later and in love, she's all that I can hope to smuggle out of the country to a place where the US doesn't have an extradition treaty. Sorry, Courtney. You're going to need to appeal to my pal. But if any broad can do that, you're well equipped. Start thinking of how to beg him for your life. Remember, to him, it'll all be about him, not about why he should be considerate of you. He' s that kind of guy. I was considering what to do if he wanted to kill both of you, and if he objects to my taking Melissa, I'll kill him and leave with her. I want her. In fact, I think I'll just leave with her and let you deal with him after I'm gone. But good luck. At least, you look super; you may just get him to spare you if you beg right and make him think you're worth having along."
Melissa finished donning her own sandals and a sexy black bra and panty set, and Mason cuffed her hands behind her and added a waist chain to which he locked the handcuffs. She was then hobbled on about a foot of chain and made to sit while Mason locked her door and prepared a bomb, placed near the center of the room, near a can of gasoline. He plugged in the bomb, it being activated by house current and a timer, no battery needed. He set the bomb for explosion in an hour and a half. If Bamka arrived in time, he'd find it and take what he wanted before plugging it in again. If the cops got him or he otherwise didn't show, the bomb would blow and set off the gas and other combustible items and incinerate the house and the helpless, chained Courtney Cassidy!
When all was ready, Mason unlocked the door to Melissa's cage for the final time and took her out, leading her on a leash attached to the ring on her metal slave girl's collar.
She whimpered and begged to have Courtney join them, but Mason was adamant.
"Sorry, girls, Melissa is all I'm taking. But you can both hope that my pal arrives in time and takes her. Now, come on, Melissa. We have other places to be. Just remember, if you mess around and impede me, your life isn't worth a plugged nickel."
"I'll behave," she promised. "Just tell me what you want. I'm going to make you totally crave me, I swear."
"You'd better hope that you do," he snarled. He applied a professional leather bondage gag and led her out on her leash and put her in the back of the blue van, locking the doors.
Mason started the van and said, "Keep quiet, Melissa. Here we go. Start thinking of how to entertain me tonight. Plan on amusing me and keeping me happy with you, and you can do okay. I'll tell you later what's happened and why we're bugging out. By the way, I have to take off this hood to drive, and you're going to see my face plenty in the days to come. That's just one of the risks that I chose to assume when I decided to save you and take you with me. But what the hell: if you're going to become my submissive, you may as well know what I look like." And he removed the mask and stuffed it into the glove compartment. His face was a little craggy with deep-set eyes, but he was rather handsome in a rugged way. Melissa wondered why he'd had to steal women to have them. He should have been able to get some the normal way. She saw that his hair was black, but she had been expecting him to be who she now saw that he was.
Mason stepped on the gas, eager to avoid police and his own partner, who might object to his taking Melissa away alive. But she was worth some risk. She was really a very pretty, obedient girl. And Mason was expecting some otherwise lonely weeks ahead. He wondered whether Bamka would arrive in time , or if the bomb would destroy the Cassidy girl and the home. Well, time would tell. If Bamka found her and got away, he'd call Mason later. Until then, it was best to assume the worst and just try to avoid attracting attention.