Chapter 20
No one could understand the importance of time more than Anna at this time; time and strategy. Which is why the moment she landed she went directly to the police station and asked specifically for Sergeant Griffith, not only was he an influential police man but he was also one of the cops that were around during her older brother’s law enforcement days. Just like most of the other officers of that time, Sergeant Griffith was and had always been like an older brother to Anna. So when she went to him, and told him everything that she thought was important he didn’t hesitate to offer his help, taking with him one of the younger officers for support.
They pulled up in front of Anna’s house mere minutes before midnight, it had been a long day for her but her worry and anxiety was adrenaline enough. The moment they stepped out of the car they knew something was wrong.
“Stay behind me Anna, Henry take the back,” instructed Griffith as he withdrew his handgun from his waist.
The flowers lining the drive had been trampled, the door hung in the frame by one hinge and two ceramic flower pots on the veranda lay in pieces on the floor, spilling the dark mud all over the verandah floor.
Inside was even worse, Anna winced at the sight of her living room; it seemed as if everything was turned over in sport, after what appeared to be a brief struggle to get in.
“What is this Anna, you make some people really angry girl,” said Griffith, still perusing the room cautiously.
Officer Henry appeared through the back door, his eyes wide, “Sir yuh have to come see this.”
They followed him out into the back yard, where they found Mike sprawled out amidst a spread of glass. Anna gasped and hurried to his side.
“Mike?” she reached out and touched his arm and he jerked awake, his eyes wide with fury.
“It’s me Mike, it’s Anna.”
Seeing him relax, she motioned for the others to help her get him off the ground; he groaned in pain as he was lifted off the ground and placed on the step. Anna ran inside and returned with a damp wash cloth which she pressed to the bleeding cuts on his face and arms.
“They’ve got Casey,” he said huskily, “I tried to stop ‘em, but they were just too much,” he winced and shut his eyes tightly, “I’m sorry Anna, God am sorry!” he cried, dropping his head into his hand in dismay.
“It’s alright, we’ll get them,” she assured him despite the gripping panic in her chest and the uneasy feeling in her stomach.
“What the hell’s going on here Anna?” Mike asked.
Anna hesitated, one thing was for certain, this time Mike would definitely kill Brad if he found out this was stemming from his world.
“We bounced into some…bad people that’s all,” she replied finally.
Mike looked at her with wide eyes, “What? What the hell do they want from you?”
“I don’t know, but I need to find them.”
Mike struggled to his feet despite their protests, “we’ll find them, and I’m gonna kick the lights out of ‘em and we’re gonna get Casey back, it could be after or before I kill them.”
“Sure Mike, but you’ve got to rethink that killing idea, I prefer to have you here than doing hard time for murder.”
Mike glared at her, “It’s self defense!” he growled.
“Not if it’s premeditated,” said Sergeant Griffith.
Mike looked up at them as though seeing them for the first time and swore under his breath, “fine then, but you have to at least let me kick their….”
“First we have to find them,” the Sergeant interrupted, “Henry, call in some backup.”
“I think I might have an idea,” said Mike.
His jaw hurt, his eyes burned and the excruciating pain in his ankle immobilized him where he lay on the cold ground. It had been a bumpy ride, though he could not remember much of it, his body was no liar, he knew when he’d been mistreated. What was most disturbing was the fact that he’d found himself in the exact position he was in at the start of this journey through hell, the question was, who was he going to blame this time? From where he lay amidst the odours of wet rug, varnish, shaved wood and sweaty boots he could hear the boisterous chatter of his kidnappers and the sounds of glasses being slammed down on a hollow surface. Drinking on the job?
“Hey look who’s up?” one of them said with a grin.
Two guys came and pulled him to his feet, or foot as he found himself hopping on his right to avoid further discomfort to the twisted left. There were three men in the room, their height and build distributed from smallest to biggest.
“Time to meet the boss, he’s been waiting for ya,” said the huge man that had met him at the airport. Brad remembered hearing the others refer to him as Mug head, a rather distinguished name considering his cylindrical head, block like forehead and one extremely protruding ear in relation to the other ‘normal’ looking one.
Brad let them make fun of him while he waited, he didn’t know where he was but he was pretty sure he wasn’t in America anymore. If Anna was right though, he would be one step ahead than he would’ve been otherwise. The room was dark and aged, no paint, just rough, cracked concrete walls, rusted windows with broken handles and missing panes. As he was standing there, one man came and started to bind his hands together.
“Don’t want you trying anything stupid,” said Mug head.
As he was being bound, Brad looked over to the right in time to see a figure passing by through the partially open door. He turned with narrowed eyes as he zoomed in; the tiny figure struggling to walk between two guys, looked frighteningly familiar… it was almost as though he was looking at…
“Casey?”
The man before him looked up at him sharply, then at Mug head, whose face had grown hard, but Brad couldn’t care.
“Casey!” he called.
The girl turned around, her eyes wide and wet with tears, her hair askew and her face flushed with fear and confusion.
“Daddy!” she cried.
Brad blinked, that was the first time she’d called him Daddy, his eyes grew wide. Instantly he yanked his hands from the other guy bringing it up under his chin with all his might. He grunted and struggled backward. Brad hopped to the other side of the room so he could face the angry men using an old wooden chair as his support. He looked frantically from one to the other, the odds were against him, there was no way he could take them all down successfully, but Casey needed him, what would he tell Anna if something happened to their child?
He rocked back on his heel and swung the chair around, wielding it toward the gang of frothing, blood thirsty lions, his eyes were wide with anxiety, now what?
Mug head started to chuckle, “what are you gonna do Mason? This isn’t a board meeting, you can’t chair us out of existence,” he taunted and loud hooting arose from the other two guys.
Brad, still hopping around on one leg, looked frantically from on angry face to the other, hyenas he thought, loud, spotted, dangerous hyenas. Beads of perspiration were tumbling down his temples and he could hear his heart thumping boldly in his ears, he took a shaky breath.
“Lord, Anna said that you said that you are a present help in the time of need,” he muttered, his lips barely moving, “well I’m definitely in need right now and you also said I should not be afraid but… I am shaking in my boots,” he paused and glanced down at his shoes quizzically, “well actually Dolce & Gabana snake skin leather pumps,” he corrected.
“Get him!”
The snarling quartet – including one extra that had recently come in – launched a fisted attack at him. Tossing the chair blindly in their direction he turned and limped toward the door.
“Now would be a good time!” he cried, just before he tripped over what felt as thick and solid as a log.
Grimacing, he looked up to find Mug head smiling down at him, his long leg stretched out before him.
“Playtime’s over chair man,” as was expected, his not-funny-at-all statemen
t was chorused by the rugged baritones of taunting laughter. Now for the audience’s response; something sounding like a pea being squeezed out of a nozzle. Brad looked up at a startled Mug head, his large hand gripping his chest, blood already oozing between his fingers. Brad looked just as shocked, he knew he’d asked for assistance but this… this was too surreal, did God usually just whack people like that?
“Police, none of you move!” came a commanding voice, as Mug head slumped to the floor, with glazed eyes and a whimper.
Brad looked up to see Detective Chavez standing at the door, his silenced gun raised, his face hard set for business, daring the other men to make a move. He looked different without his uniform. Brad could’ve easily said that having the Detective that had recently beaten him up in his own home, who later faced disciplinary action and was coined as a brutal police in local newspapers, come at the exact moment when he needed saving, was utterly miraculous.
Brad helped Chavez tie up the men with their own ropes, “how did you know?” Brad asked.
Chavez shrugged, “After you and I had our little fallin’ out I did some digging around on ya and I found a fishy trail on your wife, since then I been keepin’ my eyes on you two’s. It’s funny though, I really was just looking for a way to nail you and justify my actions, turns out you were right. I got Intel on some activity around these parts and I picked up a surveillance shot of your wife with that ex-con…” he shrugged, “guess it led me here, ya lucky bastard,” he chuckled.
Brad smiled, “right on time Chavez,” he reached down and picked up a broken chair leg, “now let’s clean this up.”
Chavez picked up a revolver and lifted it toward him, “sure you don’t prefer this.”
Brad hesitated, “naw…you know what…” he took it and shoved it in his waist, “I’ll just hang on to it just in case.”
They tiptoed down the hall until they came to an open area, bright with equipment and make shift lights. Chavez jammed along the entrance, his gun held tightly in front of him and he motioned to Brad to cover him.
“Wait,” Brad whispered, “shouldn’t we secure the hostages first?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Chavez seemed to think about it for a while, “sounds like a plan, only we don’t know where they are. Besides, the kid’s in there.”
“Casey?” he took a deep breath, “okay, we’ll do it your way.”
“On three. One, two…”
Chavez turned and dived into the room, sliding behind a crate in the shadows. Brad took his place against the wall, clutching his chair leg, until he realized what he was up against and switched it with the gun.
“Freeze, Police. Drop your weapon!” he heard Chavez say.
There was a scramble in the room as men dived for cover and withdrew weapons. And then to his surprise the sounds of mad gun shots that seemed to go on for what felt like an eternity. Finally it stopped, and then all Brad could hear was his own panicked breathing, he was shaking now and sweating profusely.
“Come on Trent, it’s over,” said Chavez.
Brad sighed in relief, Chavez was okay. He took a chance and glanced into the room, it was dusty but not enough to hide the two lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground. But someone was still moving, it was Trent, he drew back and swore.
“Drop the gun or the girl gets it!” came the familiar voice that Brad had now come to associate with the lowest of species.
He grimaced as he heard Casey’s fearful cry, she was clutched against her kidnapper’s chest a gun pressed to her temple. Brad groaned, she shouldn’t have to be subjected to this kind of thing; it made him angry to think that this man might’ve ruined his daughter’s childhood. He was no expert but a common understanding of the human mind told him that this could scar his daughter for life. What he had to think about now was how much more damage would he cause by flying in there with guns blazing. He took a deep breath and replaced the gun with the chair leg again, this time he wasn’t shaking with fear; he was shaking with anticipation, the anticipation of taking down Trent and watching him squirm at his feet, like a headless serpent.
“Drop it!” Trent screamed, his voice rising to a frantically high pitch.
Chavez hesitated but then he dropped his gun and slid it toward Trent, rising from his hiding place with his hands lifted above his head.
Trent smiled evilly, “thank you,” he said as he lifted his gun and squeezed the trigger.
All Chavez could do was gasp as the lead slammed into him; he staggered, looked up at Trent with wide eyes then fell to the floor with a thud. As Trent lowered his gun however, Brad leaned in and flung the faithful chair leg, it flew toward him with a whoosh and hit him directly on the head, right between the eyes. He bucked and staggered releasing Casey immediately, his eyes wide with shock as he too fell to the ground.
Brad ran in now, and caught Casey as she stumbled into his arms, moving awkwardly on her heavily casted leg; she buried her face in his shirt and clung to him.
“You alright darling, how’s your leg,” he pulled her away from him so he could see her face, but to his surprise and confusion, tears were streaming down her face but she was grinning, her eyes were bright with what appeared to be excitement.
“I’m okay. Wow, you only see stuff like this in the movies, oh man am shaking,” she said. Brad couldn’t help it but smile, she was different alright.
“What about that guy? Is he gonna be okay.”
Brad let go of her and hurried to Chavez’s side, “hey man are you okay?”
Chavez lifted his head weakly only to drop it down again with a sigh, “I’ll be fine,” he said between breaths, clutching the bloody patch above his chest.
“Dad he’s getting away!”
Brad looked up sharply, in time to see Trent staggering out the room gripping his forehead. Brad swore then winced, casting an apologetic look at his daughter but she was too caught up with the drama to notice.
He got up took out his gun from his waist, checked to see if it was loaded then stuck it in his waist, “you two stay here,” he instructed as he went to get his chair leg.
“Casey… uh…” he looked about the room for a moment before he retrieved a bulky phone from among Trent’s equipment, he handed it to Casey, “get help but don’t leave,” he said, “I’m going after him, and stay away from these…uh sleeping, bad guys.”
“Dad, I know they’re dead.”
“Yeah of course you do.”
Anna looked up from behind the bush tree they were using as cover and looked over at Mike quizzically, “this is where they are? Your wood shop?”
Mike shrugged, “it’s a long story,” he said.
Anna glared at him, “paraphrase it,” she demanded, through clenched teeth.
“Okay, well I kinda rented out the upstairs to this weird looking dude,” he started.
“You what! I didn’t give you permission to rent anything,” scolded Anna.
Mike ducked his head in embarrassment, “ah know, he just… he offered a really hefty sum for not even more than two weeks and ah only rented out the upstairs anyway.”
“And how do you know this is who we’re looking for?”
Mike sighed, “well they came to the house for two things, one was Casey and the other was the hefty sum I got, that I’d planned to spend on the renovation of the bathroom,” he looked utterly disappointed, “anyway I guess they didn’t plan on me waking up.
“Alright you two enough talking, let’s just go in there and get an idea of what we’re up against. Corporal Henry stay here, no one gets out.”
Crouching, they moved with the swiftness and stealth almost equivalent to a Cheetah as they approached the house. Surprisingly, the door was open and there wasn’t much resistance from the drowsy guard sitting inside. Griffith merely knocked him cold with his gun butt and they carried on further into the old moldy house.
“The moment someone asked to rent this place your radar should’ve been up, look at thi
s place, only bank robbers, drug addicts, the clinically insane and kidnappers would live here,” Anna whispered.
Mike rolled his eyes.
“Shhh,” Griffith stopped and planted his finger on his lips in warning; “did you hear that?”
Everyone was on alert now, standing completely still. Then they heard it, a shrill cry and a loud commanding voice, it was muffled but all the walls couldn’t hide the venom that it held.
“That must be Mara,” said Anna.
Mike looked at her confusedly, “who is Mara?” he asked, frowning.
Just then Derek came skidding around the corner, his arms flailing as he jolted to a stop, “Anna!” he instantly broke into wide grin.
Anna froze for a moment, her eyes wide and something strange whirled inside of her at the sight of him.
“Oh my God! Derek you’re alright,” she cried as she hurried toward him.
Derek was already making his way toward her, he looked such a mess, with his swollen lips bruised brow, bloody beige shirt and dusty jeans. But that couldn’t stop Anna from throwing her arms around him happily; he returned her embrace with equal fervor, both oblivious to the surprised and confused onlookers.
“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching up and brushing her fingers over his busted lip.
He took her hand and kissed it, if someone had told him yesterday even, that he would be this joyful at seeing Anna he wouldn’t have believed it. It appears as if lies aren’t only effective to the one to whom it is aimed but to some extent to the one who gives it.
“I’m fine,” he said, his eyes locked on hers, he would give so much to be able to look into those caring pools for as long as was humanly possible.
“How’d you get out?” she asked.
Mike and Griffith had come closer now, the surprised looks slowly fading on their faces and the eager ‘we want answers now’ frown had started to appear, starting from their eyes.
“I’ll tell you later,” said Derek, he looked over her shoulder at the two men, “great you brought help. Trent just came in, he took Mara, he looks really mad and I’m afraid he’s gonna hurt her,” he turned back to Anna, “Brad’s here…”
“Mason!” Mike stepped up, his gaze cold, “Anna you better start explaining right now!” he demanded.
“She will,” replied Derek, “on the way, we don’t have much time.”
He took her hand and started to lead her away but she tightened her grip and jerked his arms gently, he turned back to look at her with concern.
“What is it?”
Anna took a deep breath, “They’ve got my daughter Derek,” she said and she could swear she saw his eyes flash.
“No way!” he responded, his face dark.
Anna nodded, “kidnapped her tonight.”
“This just got way serious,” he growled.
“Darn right,” Mike agreed.
They started off again, this time stealth was disregarded as they followed Derek, guns and… a cutlass raised and ready.
“If there wasn’t someone I wanted to whip more I’d a cleaned that Mason guy up,” Mike was saying, after Anna had relayed the story to him.
Derek turned and lifted his finger to his lips, “shhh, I think I hear ‘em,” he whispered.
He leaned in and peered over the edge of the wall. The back of the building was a muddy yard with patches of grass here and there and a back drop of ocean; one could understand how the house made a convenient spot for harbouring hostages and carrying out their very criminal activities. It was a windy night and the sea was in an uproar and bumping in the surf, was a speed boat. But the most surprising sight was seeing Brad there, he was standing with his back toward a fidgeting Trent, holding on to a sobbing Mara a gun pressed to her head as he backed away toward the waiting boat.
“Oh my God,” cried Derek, “they’re all down there.”
The Sergeant leaned over and lifted his gun, then he shook his head, “I can’t get a clear shot.”
“We got to make it back down,” said Derek, “hurry!”
“I said don’t move,” bellowed Brad, as he tightened his sweaty grip on the gun.
Mara looked over at him with pleading eyes, “I’m not sure if I want to die Brad,” she cried.
Trent yanked her hair and pressed the gun harder, “shut up!”
“Come on Trent, it’s over,” Brad said.
Trent took the gun from Mara and pointed it to Brad, “it ain’t over till somebody pays!” he screamed.
“I already did,” cried Brad in frustration.
Neither of them was expecting what happened next. Suddenly, Trent was crying out in agony, squinting his eyes as he doubled over. Brad looked over just in time to see Casey lowering what looked like a sling shot, a mischievous grin on her face, just before she ducked behind the short brick wall again. Brad smiled, she was definitely his daughter.
Mara twirled and punched Trent hard in the face with her bound hands and he made one angry desperate grapple for her. She gasped as he grabbed her and swung her over the edge, it happened so fast it left Brad, gapping and frozen and he didn’t see Trent coming toward him, fist at the ready.
It took the first punch to the face to snap him back into his senses; he staggered backward and dropped the gun. Angrily he reached for Trent, grabbing him by the collar and tossing him to the ground hard. Then he pulled out his chair leg from his waist and rained blind, rage filled blows down on him. Until Trent tripped him, straddled him and punched him into oblivion.
Derek and the others reached down just in time to see Trent laughing hysterically as he pelted toward the boat, his face almost unrecognizable. The sergeant lifted his gun and fired, Trent bucked momentarily but continued to make for the boat, looking as weak limbed and wounded as ever. Anna hurried to Brad’s side and shook him until his eyes fluttered open and he was instantly awake the moment he remembered what was happening.
“Mara’s in there!” he cried, motioning to the raging surf.
“I got her.”
They all looked up to see a wet Officer Henry struggling up the bank toward them, he had Mara in his arms and she looked as lifeless as ever. Brad got up and hurried toward them, his face flushed with panic.
Henry laid her down and Brad immediately started resuscitation. Derek leaned down to help as the others looked on in horror. The pale, blue lipped Mara, just laid there, rocking under Brad and Derek’s attempts to restore her.
“….5,6,7,8…” Derek counted as her pumped her chest vigorously.
“Come on Baby,” Brad pleaded, tears streaming down his face, “Come on, I can’t lose you please don’t leave me, I love you so much.”
Casey wobbled across the field, leaning against Mike. Anna stretched out her arms to her and she clung to her mother, her face crumpled with grief, “mom?”
By now they could see the colourful flashing lights of the ambulance and the police, their sirens cutting into the grief chilled night.
Anna wrapped her arms around her daughter, “Oh God…” she breathed, “Everything’s going to be okay honey. Have faith.”