Ch 25, Win or Lose, Live or Die

The EasyLife Motel was a sleazy establishment that most likely even sold rooms by the hour. The plain dark wood sign advertised discretion and leisure. Ask about our frequent visitors' club. It was a text book two level dump with peeling façade and an unplugged Pepsi machine at the entrance.

Marcel felt disgusted and said so, after cursing and swearing a few times. James had switched into his army mode which didn't allow impressions and feelings to mingle. But Marcel's impatience was a cover for the man's anger and fear and James decided he needed to say something, so he put his arm on his shoulder before getting out of the car and said:

"Look Marcel! We're in this together! Both our children are in this mess because of…ahh…their parents! Okay? You've been in 'This Life' and you know that acting fast and smart and keeping your shit together can be the difference between life and death. So, I need you to put the emotions aside and to behave like…ahh…a soldier…because your daughter needs you to."

Marcel swallowed hard, nodded and asked: "What's your plan?"

"You go in and try to get info if the kids have been here…use the pictures Teresa sent to your cell…I will circle around to get an idea about exits, guests, vehicles…the whole perimeter." James needed to do reconnaissance before any move. He was not making any more mistakes with this Lancaster family! Things were being done by the book!

"You keep the guy at reception talking…don't aggravate him…I'll meet you inside!" and James got out of the car and slid in the darkness.


The slightly overweight guy at reception wore a name tag 'Paul' and got from his seat the moment Marcel entered.

He was taking deep breaths and trying to put the emotions aside, just like James had told him to, but it was his only daughter, and he was finding it tough. So, he showed the pics of Vivienne and George to Paul and asked if they had been there.

"I'm sorry sir, but here we pride ourselves on our discretion!" The rehearsed answer and the fake smile on the man's face angered him as Vivienne was only a child.

Marcel tried to sound casual: "Look…The teen I'm looking for is not in any trouble. I'm not a private eye trying to catch a cheating spouse…"

The smile didn't falter away. "I'm sorry but our clientele uses our services for a variety of activities and often crave anonymity. We respect that!"

Marcel leaned over the desk to check the man's shoes: polished like mirrors. It was not a put on. The hair was slicked back, the sparkle in the eyes looked real. Marcel took out his wallet and plucked a hundred from the bifold, then slid it across the counter. The man looked at him and didn't move.

"What's this for sir?" He asked innocently.

"It's a present!" Marcel wondered where the idea came from. The man didn't touch the bill.

"It's the price for one piece of information. Were the teen and the girl ever brought here?" He kept his voice neutral as best as he could. "Ok, then, I need to speak with the manager!" came out without much thinking.

"I'm the manager, sir!" Paul responded coolly.

"I see…" Marcel's mind was going into overdrive as he wanted to smash his fist in the man's sleazy face, but James had told him to only keep him busy.

"I also own 10%...in other words I'm in for the long run! That's why the business principles are of paramount importance…If the client knows this is a place, where he can feel safe to commit an indiscretion, the client is more likely to return. Do you see?" Paul seemed to have outdone himself.

"Repeat business? " Marcel grumbled and wondered why James was taking so long.

"Precisely!" Paul said.

"Referrals too? Like hey, I know a great place to have some ass on the side!" Marcel felt so bitter because he suspected this day would end up badly for Paul and hoped that maybe mocking him would make the man reconsider.

"This is great business concept, but this teen is only 15. And him being brought here against his will is against the law!" Marcel said, controlling his voice.

"I hate to disagree with you sir, but statutory rape…" Paul started saying as Marcel interrupted him: "It's when he is assaulted and held hostage in your motel and says someone got an extra key card at reception and used it to break into his room that …."

Paul took his turn to interrupt: "We don't have extra keys!"

"But he got in somehow!" Marcel's voice was up a notch.

"If that were the case, the police would be here, sir!" Paul said and Marcel felt a cold gust of wind blow across his heart. How many men would be inside holding his daughter and James's son hostages? Would they be enough to overpower them? He wondered.

Then he heard himself say out of the blue: "So, then I will have to sit with my camera at the front documenting all your repeat customers…Let's see if they will remain repeat. In my experience folks like that are very camera shy!"

Paul's face had paled: "This is private property; you can't do that! This is harassment and you're interfering with my business!" The man's voice was raised now.

"And you with mine!" Marcel was losing it.

Paul got himself under control and said: "Please kindly leave the premises!" His upper lip was spotting beads of sweat. Then he took several deep breaths: "You just wanna know about the boy?"

"And the young girl!" Marcel added.

Just then James walked through the entrance, face stone, leather jacket just as Marcel remembered it, just a newer version, dressed all in black and looking menacing!

He stopped on the side of the reception desk and asked: "Any progress?"

Paul gathered his wits: "Are you his friend? He has been harassing me. Do you mind taking him with you?"

James's hand was on the side of the man's head and smashed it on the desk surface with such speed that his broken nose sputtered blood and his rimless glasses flew off to the side.

"Where is my son, asshole?" James snarled. "I'm not him…I'm not playing games! I will put you in a wheelchair in five minutes…Talk!" James said coldly.

"He…ahh…they took them away!" Paul stuttered.

"Where?" James's arm went up again, his hand almost touched Paul's head. The man cringed and put his arms up and in front of his face in a defensive position.

"Somewhere to the Port …they're going to leave the country on the downlow…is all I heard!" Paul said wiping his nose.

James turned briskly and walked out with Marcel right after him. He jumped in the car and spun it around, then hit the gas.


The hacker confirmed that the two Englishmen had not purchased any airfare, and as no ransom demand had been made so far, it became increasingly clear that the kidnap was for revenge and the next step would be to get the hostages out of the country on one of the many cargo ships leaving daily.

"Leave Chicho in the house with the women and meet me at the port!" James told Pote, then hung up and sped along the highway. Marcel prayed they wouldn't get stopped by a late cruiser as James was flying by.

"If your friend Chiho is staying at the house, I'm going with you, Tio!" Tony had come back from his practice and the situation at the house had thrown him right back into the whirlpool of dangerous adventures he had shared with his dad and his friend. He had even taken one of Pote's many handguns, checked it expertly and put it in his belt.

Pote knew the boy could shoot very well, just as he could fight, complements of his father's desire to train him, and because there was no time to argue, he agreed and ran out. He wasn't even sure Teresa understood that Tony had left with him.


James drove in the Port as far as civilian vehicles were allowed, then parked and got out. They were near the waterfront and his eyes landed on the dark water at the decommissioned naval shipyard to the left, dominated by a massive gantry crane that bore a skeletal resemblance to a battleship.

"The hacker said one cargo ship was leaving before dawn! We need to intercept them when loading", and he ran in the direction of the pier, hand checking the gun in his belt.

James ran steadily and felt fear come back to the surface. He had felt the most excruciating fear just a few weeks back when he had thought his older son had died, and now his fracturing thoughts presented him with pictures of his younger son being killed for revenge! Then he tried to rationalize the danger away.

Moonlight filled the area. He could only hear Marcel's steps behind him, but no noises of men loading cargo. He saw the light refracting off a broken window of a trailer and then his gaze landed on tangles of cable, gears, pipes, levers and pulleys, instrumental panels covered with cracked gauges and controls, all being taken outside, most likely to be loaded. He was in front of some warehouse which was the gateway to the container yard. Then he heard voices and turned to Marcel.

He saw Marcel being hit to the side of his head, a blow that sent him slumping on the ground, while a dark figure moved behind the warehouse just as James drew out his gun. He bent over Marcel and shook him. He had been hit with the butt of a gun, that could not be deadly.

Marcel groaned and touched his hand to the point of impact. His fingers came away sticky with blood. James saw a fresh line of blood run down the side of his face. But with a full load of adrenaline shot gunning through his system, the pain was muted as Marcel got up on his feet.

It took them five minutes to circle the warehouse to the place where three men were loading things into a small container and a forklift was waiting to take it to a ship. James took out the gun with a silencer and before Marcel could react, took down two of the men, while the third one stood frozen in the middle and raised his arms.

"Where are the hostages?" James was next to the man, who only shook his head. James was mad as his fist landed in the man's stomach, whose breath exploded out of his lungs, and he doubled over. Crushing down on top of him, he turned him, then shoved the barrel of the gun into his mouth, all the way to the back of his throat until the taste of old oil and carbon residue was more than the man could stomach: "Where are the kids? When I pull the gun out, you talk!"

He pulled the gun out and a second later the man threw up on the ground, coughing and choking. Then his voice came out in puffs: "Container 45, down the south side!"


Pote drove in the Port from the north side which had been closed due to expansion work for a year now.

Tony jumped out of the car and pointed to the three foot seawall stood in their path: "We'll have to climb, Tio!"

They scaled the concrete, barking their shins on the way over and staying on all four as they crawled through the hedgerow upon landing. Pote felt branches grabbing his shirt and face, clawing his eyes. His knees were hurting him from the climbing and the crouching, his muscles screaming in hot pain. He felt his pulse quicken. No sign of James or of Marcel!

That's when they heard the shots. One…two…three…Then silence!

They both ran in this direction, guns out; Tony obviously taking over his Tio and turning behind a black mass of containers before Pote could catch his breath.

Tony crouched behind a container and spotted one with an open door. A shadow was moving in the front and then another one and then he saw two more shadows, one of which was a shorter person. That must be Vivienne! He whistled in a manner his father and brother would recognize.

One of the shadows stopped immediately, then turned in his direction, pointing a gun, said something muffled and started taking quick silent steps his way.

Tony was afraid to make more noise as he had no idea if there were any of the kidnappers on the loose, when a noise behind him made him turn to see a tall blond man pointing a gun to something on the ground some thirty meters from him.

The thing on the ground moved and he realized it was a body! It was his Tio! Had he been shot? He had been running after him, but Tony hadn't heard him fall or make any other noise!

"Tio!" the shout came out of him as he stepped out of the shadow and the man turned in his direction. Their eyes locked in the dim light coming from a street pole above.

Tony could see there was no hesitation, no explanation, no doubt. He was ready to shoot. He felt a bead of sweat run down his back. Looking into the barrel of a gun was like staring into the cavern of death. He had done that already once in his 16 years of life.

He heard the crackle of a walkie talkie, but before the man could lift his hand to talk on it, Tony lifted his pistol and blew him out to eternity with a shot that splattered brain matter all over.

James was by his side the next instance as they both saw Pote lift himself up with difficulty and reach for his gun that had been dropped out of his reach.


James felt his chest was still tight even after they had removed the bodies from the port yard under the disguise of the night and had brought George and Vivienne to their mothers.

It didn't take him long to figure out that he was worried about Tony's state of mind after having taken a life. He couldn't quite remember how he personally had felt at that particular moment since for him it had been some Taliban soldier hiding in a ravine, but his mind pictured vividly Teresa's distraught face after she had killed John, his buddy from Florida, whom they had robbed.

He needed to talk to his son, he just didn't know how to start! He was struggling because he knew he himself would have killed the motel guy with no mercy exactly as he had shot two of the guys loading the containers. The violence that had been oozing out of him scared him. He had seen violence in his youth; he had made it a career and then he had saved himself from it. But perpetrating violence against his family had elicited strong and overpowering feelings of anger that had desensitized him and had brought back a sense of primal response.

Tony walked in and after their eyes met, the boy said: "I can read your mind, Dad! Literally!"

James swallowed but his son continued fast: "I know you're worried about me…because I just killed a man….But I'm fine…He would've killed Tio! I have no regrets!"

James got up and just hugged his first born, patting him on the back. "I'm a parent…you know…I worry!"

Tony pulled himself apart and mumbled: "Yeah…sounds just like Mom or Tia!"

Teresa entered in this moment to hear her son repeat again: "Don't worry about me!"

He cast a glance in her direction and maybe because he wanted to avoid her starting to talk about the matter, he added: "I had no choice but to kill the man…like Bobby last year had no choice but to kill the dude who attacked me…It's live or die, Dad, in such situations! I'm sure you have seen your fair share of them…It's win or lose, live or die! That's all there is to it!"

James's mouth opened and his eyes caught a glimpse of Teresa's stunned expression: " Where did you hear this?" he said.

"Nowhere!" Tony shrugged. "I just came up with it…but it's true!" Tony wrinkled his forehead at his mom's stare. "Mom, why are you staring at me like that? Would you rather Tio be dead?"

Teresa shook her head and her voice trembled slightly as she said: "No, of course not…You did what had to be done!" and she took the several steps to him as it was her turn to hug him tight.