by Les Abend
When that buddy from his old unit met him at Houston’s Restaurant on the Intracoastal in Pompano Beach with a job proposal, Chris jumped at the chance. His buddy had introduced him to the slick-haired dude. If that gleaming white forty-something-foot Tiara docked at the restaurant was any indication, the slick-haired dude had some cash. The two chicks sprawled out on the bow wearing thong bikinis and new tits weren’t cheap either.
It wasn’t the money that the slick-haired dude offered so much as it would be like living on the edge again. And the stuff he would be asked to do wasn’t anything he hadn’t already seen in the Army. Just like Iraq, he’d still be dealing with bad guys. And he’d be doing somebody a favor--ridding the world of idiots one asshole at a time. Well, maybe he’d just bust a few heads.
Chris looked up at the TV screen that was mounted over the wine glass rack on the other side of the bar. The caption on the bottom of the screen read, “Breaking News.” The local TV station was flashing video footage of an airplane landing on some island. One of the airplane’s engines was on fire. The video switched to a newscaster standing in front of a tropical-colored building. The screen changed to photographs of the airplane and the engine damage. Passengers climbed down the mobile stairs that were mated to the side of the airplane. Two gurneys with black body bags were being rolled toward an ambulance.
“What’s that all about?” Chris wondered. He peered back over at the tall, blond guy still perched on a bar stool. The guy had slid forward on the stool. His focus was intent on the TV screen. He was in a trance. His elbows were planted on the bar while his hands cupped his chin. He was shaking his head with an almost imperceptible motion.
“Something’s up,” Chris thought. He gestured at the skinny bartender with the close-cropped burnt-orange hair and said, “Dude, can you turn up the sound?”
The bartender nodded and reached behind him to the side of the cash register. He grabbed the remote control and aimed the device at the TV.
Chris listened to the dark-skinned newscaster with the long legs babble about airplane crap. It was obvious that she was making stuff up just to fill time. Shit! He knew more about airplanes than the dopey reporter. But one thing she said caught his attention.
The airplane had departed Port of Spain, Trinidad. Isn’t that where his damn pilot was supposed to have flown on his layover? And then he was flying to JFK on his second day...as in today? What the hell would he be doing in Bermuda? Chris tilted an ear toward the bar TV.
It didn’t take long for him to hear what he was hoping not to hear. The names of the captain and the copilot were announced. Two separate photographs of the crew were on the screen. The captain was dressed in his uniform, two boys in their teens and what appeared to be his wife with their yellow Lab flanking him.
The copilot’s photograph pictured him in a T-shirt, casually slouched in a chaise lounge by a pool. Yup, it was him. Crap! Now what? His task yesterday was to follow this copilot dude and make sure that the guy reported for his trip to Port of Spain. Chris even went so far as to pass through airport security in order to observe at the departure gate.
An old high school buddy from the army worked for TSA. He had allowed Chris to transit via the law enforcement entrance at the far end of the MIA terminal. He had watched the copilot walk onto the jet bridge with the captain. And then Chris had waited at the gate until the airplane had pushed back.
Of all the fucking luck! The airplane had an emergency! Shit! The guys in New York would be pissed.
Chris’s iPhone vibrated in his pants. He slid the phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. It was the slick-haired guy. Chris pressed the Talk button and put the phone to his ear. He blocked the bar noise by pressing a finger to his other ear.
“Yo,” Chris said into the phone.
The flat voice at the other end of the line said, “We’re on this. Stay with the faggot. See what you can find out…and then do what you have to do. And then get the fuck out of there. We’re probably going to need you for something else in a few hours.”
“Roger,” Chris responded in the same flat tone. The call disconnected. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and glanced up at the bar TV. The local news was airing a video clip of the latest recruit for the Miami Dolphins. The rookie linebacker was practicing with the team.
“They need me for something else?” he muttered to himself. What the hell did that mean? Chris was not fond of surprises. The military had trained him to always be prepared. How could he prepare if he didn’t know the mission?
With a tilt of his head, Chris shot a brief look at the tall guy. The tall guy was staring at his half empty glass. He was slumped, a despondent expression on his face.
“This could be interesting,” Chris thought. What approach should he take? He’d probably have to pull the sympathy card, like he sometimes did when he was on the prowl with the ladies. Only he’d have to add a gay twist to the act. He was out of his element.
Chris sighed. He took a slow sip of his beer. He could do this. He gripped the handle of his mug and slid it off the bar. Chris began a slow shuffle toward the tall, blond guy.
12:10 EDT
It wasn’t until she heard the sharp honk that Robin realized that the traffic light had turned green. The light had probably been green for a while. The face of the driver in the annoying German yuppie car behind her was contorted with frustration.
“Big deal. Chill out, buddy,” Robin muttered. She had been in a self-induced trance. She took her foot off the brake and pressed on the gas pedal of the Prius. The little car began to roll forward at an unimpressive pace. The German car behind swerved to the left lane and accelerated past her at an unnecessarily high rate of speed.
“Idiot!” Robin blurted.
South Florida was full of idiots. Maybe it was time to leave. Maybe it was time to go back home to Indiana and be with the rest of her family. Hell, after last night’s announcement from Mike, she had nothing holding her to Florida. She didn’t like the idea of having to pick up a snow shovel again, but it beat the coldness of her Fort Lauderdale neighborhood. Unfortunately, it would be a hard sell to the girls…especially Kim. Kim was anchored to her teenage friends.
And now this drama with Mike’s flight; just what they needed to complicate their relationship. Shit! Would she have to travel to Bermuda? Why should she care now?
Robin slowed at the stop sign and rolled through the intersection with a right turn. The white concrete of the girls’ high school came into view at the end of the street. The sprawling building contrasted against the row of organized palm trees that defined the entrance. The building resembled a prison more than it did a school. Considering the tattoos, piercings, and other assorted gangland dress of some students, the institutional architecture was almost appropriate.
As Robin drove past the side of the school, she scanned the area. The usual assortment of cars and school buses cluttered the front parking lot. No blinking lights. No TV crews. No satellite antennas with telescoping poles. Nothing. Good deal. The media hadn’t connected all the dots yet.
And then Robin turned the corner toward the back parking lot. The serenity at the front of the building was a sharp contrast to what she began to see at the back of the building.
Chaos was in full progress. On the sidewalk that bordered the rear portion of the school, a man with a nametag pinned to his tan blazer was lying face up. A large dark stain on the sidewalk surrounded the upper part of his body. The man wasn’t moving. A handful of adults, one of them in a pastel-blue uniform dress holding a stethoscope, huddled around the prone man. Heads were shaking. Many were beginning to look away.
A mass of peering students were perched on the steps of the rear exit to the building. They were being gently held back by the upheld hands of two male teachers. The shrieking wail of a siren grew louder in the distance.
“Oh, shit!” Robin exclaimed. She steered the Prius between two white lines on the pavement and parked the car. Still staring at the unn
erving scene twenty yards in front, she unbuckled her seat belt, pulled the key from the ignition, and stepped out of the car. She stood in place, knowing that she had no useful contribution to offer. She felt immediate sorrow for the victim’s family. It would no doubt be the worst day of their lives.
Robin surveyed the trauma. Was this a shooting or a knife fight? At her daughters’ high school, no less! This was not the education that she was promised by the real estate agent ten years ago when they had been house hunting. More sirens screamed in the distance. The police were probably only moments away. Crap! If only she had left the damn office earlier. Now she would have to wait until the dust settled to retrieve her girls. The selfish thought gave her a twinge of guilt.
A woman who had been part of the huddle surrounding the man on the sidewalk rose to her feet. She wore a dark pants suit. Robin recognized her. It was Tracey Abbott, the vice principal. Robin had seen the inside of Tracey’s office almost as often as her daughter Kim. Their discussions were long and lively. The vice principal had a genuine concern for her daughter.
The two women had become friends, often shopping at the local malls together. She had kept their friendship a secret from Kim. Kim’s status among her circle of rebellious teenage girls would suffer a tremendous blow if they knew that the vice principal and her mom were pals.
Tracey Abbott turned her head and took a few steps away from the horrific scene. She caught a glimpse of Robin standing by her car. Tracey’s eyes grew wide. Her complexion began to pale. The vice principal hesitated for a brief moment and then began a slow gait toward Robin. Robin was uncomfortable with the look in Tracey’s eyes.
Police cruisers and an EMT van screeched into the back parking lot.
As Tracey approached, Robin shut the car door. She leaned against the driver’s side window. An unmarked police car, its blue light flashing on the dashboard, appeared from around the corner. It parked at an awkward angle near the commotion on the sidewalk.
“Hi, Robin,” Tracey said with a guarded tone. She held out her hand to shake. It was their standard greeting when on school grounds.
“Hey,” Robin said as she shook Tracey’s hand. She gestured at the activity on the sidewalk. The paramedics were opening the rear doors of the EMT van. “Not a good day.”
“No, it’s awful.” Tracey looked at the ground for a brief moment and then back at Robin. “That was Mr. Washington. He was our security guard. Retired Miami cop. He was shot.”
“How? By whom?”
“Not really sure at the moment.” Tracey bit her lip and stared into Robin’s eyes. “It gets worse, Robin”
“What do you mean?”
Tracey cleared her throat. “There was an abduction. That’s why the security guard was shot.” She paused. “At least that’s what we think.”
“Abduction? Who was abducted?”
Tracey’s eyes began to water. She took a long breath. She began to move her lips. Words weren’t making it past her vocal chords.
Robin didn’t have to hear. The anguished expression on the vice principal’s face gave away the answer. She gasped.
“Please tell me it isn’t true,” Robin whispered.
Tracey was paralyzed. She lowered her head and stared at the ground.
“Both of my girls?” Robin asked, a pleading tone in her voice.
Tracey nodded with her head still lowered toward the pavement.
12:15 EDT
The white Escalade motored through the intersection of U.S. 1 on Sunrise Boulevard. The blonde behind the wheel glanced at the speedometer. The indicator pointed directly at forty mph. At that speed, she would not attract unwanted attention from law enforcement. The car’s blackened windows concealed the precious cargo strapped in the two rear seats.
“Where are you taking us?” Ashley asked, trying to hide a sniffle.
The driver shifted her bare white shoulders against the seat but remained silent. Her flowing blond hair swung across the back of the headrest like a pendulum.
“They’ll find us, you know. It won’t take long,” Ashley continued.
Kim turned toward her sister and glared. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. She said, “Ash, shut up. You’re not helping.”
Tears began to fill Ashley’s eyes. She turned away from Kim and stared out the window.
An impulsive thought crossed Kim’s mind. She focused her gaze on the hair draped over the headrest. Should she? Kim looked into the rear view mirror that reflected the sculpted face of the driver. Her long eyelashes outlined her piercing green eyes. The eyes were focused on the road ahead. Why not?
Kim lunged forward and pulled down on the blond hair. Surprisingly, the driver protested with only a muffled groan. She resisted Kim’s tug, holding her head just level enough to see through the windshield.
With clenched teeth, the driver said, “You have two choices, young lady. You can let go now or I can use the gun again…this time to shoot your sister.” The black barrel of a handgun began to make an appearance over the center console of the Escalade. Ashley began to sniffle.
Kim yelled, “If you went to this much trouble in order to kidnap us, we’re too valuable to shoot!”
“Do you want to call my bluff?” The driver said with a sinister tone.
Kim looked at Ashley. Streams of tears were running down her pink cheeks. Kim took a deep breath and then released her grip on the long blond hair.
“Good choice, young lady,” the driver said. Her reflection in the rearview mirror revealed a coy smile. She shook her head and brushed her hair with the fingers of her free hand. The movement was more an act of defiance then it was a grooming attempt.
They continued in silence until the driver made a series of turns that ended in the back parking lot of a four-story office building. Numerous windows of the office building held banner-size signs with the red words “For Lease.” The lot was empty except for a battered dumpster and a black Audi A6 parked in-between two faded white lines. The Audi’s windows were tinted the same dark shade as the Escalade.
The blonde rolled the Escalade to a stop next to the Audi. She unbuckled her seat belt and pulled the key from the ignition. She turned to face the girls.
“Get out!” the blonde ordered. “You’re going for another ride. She gestured at the Audi and pointed the gun at the side of the car nearest to Ashley. “Go out that door. Open the rear door of the Audi and get in.”
The two sisters turned to face each other. Anxious expressions were etched on both of their faces. They remained still for a few moments.
Almost on cue, the muffled voices of the Jonas Brothers reverberated into the Escalade. The tinny sound was the ringtone coming from the cell phone that was wedged into a pocket of Kim’s jeans. Kim’s eyes widened. She stared at the blonde.
The blonde’s eyes narrowed. She glared at Kim. “You’re full of little surprises.” She reached out a hand, palm facing up and her fingers beckoning. “Give me the cell phone, you little brat!”
Kim crossed her arms.
“Now!” commanded the blonde.
With a reluctant sigh, Kim shoved a hand into her pocket and slid out her iPhone. She slapped it against the blonde’s upturned palm. The blonde curled her red fingernails around the phone and turned to face Ashley. “Give me your phone too, little sister.”
Ashley said, “Don’t have one yet. Can’t have one until I’m Kim’s age.”
“You’d better not be lying, girlfriend.”
Ashley shook her head and unbuckled her seat belt. With a brief sniffle, she opened her door and slid her feet out to the pavement. She took a step toward the Audi still parked a couple of feet from the Escalade. Ashley hesitated for a second and then with a tenuous motion reached for the rear door handle. Kim followed, keeping a watchful eye on the blonde and her gun. With the door of the Audi open, the girls slid across the back seat.
A throaty female voice from the driver’s seat ordered, “Close it now!”
Kim reached for the armrest
and slammed the door shut. She looked ahead at the woman in the driver’s seat. This woman had long, fiery red hair. It was tied in a ponytail with a sparkling silver clasp. The woman turned to glance at Kim and Ashley. Her orange tan accented the high cheekbones of her freckled face.
The passenger door opened and the blonde from the Escalade slithered into the seat. Her fashionably tattered, skin-tight jeans contrasted with the plush interior of the car. The bra under her sheer, pink tank top did nothing to hide the outline of her breasts. She swung her long legs over the transom of the door. The clunky spikes of her high heel shoes clicked against the metal as she shifted her body inside.
“Welcome, ladies,” the redhead said. If you cooperate with our instructions, everything will be okay. We might even have a little fun. If you choose to be difficult, life will not be pleasant.” The redhead moved her stare from Kim to Ashley. “Understood?”
Both girls offered reluctant nods. The blonde opened the glove compartment of the Audi and reached inside. She pulled out two eye masks, the type used to block out light when sleeping. She turned in her seat and dangled the masks in front of Kim and Ashley.
“Put these on, little darlings! It’ll be more fun if you don’t know where you are.”
Kim and Ashley exchanged fearful glances. With a brief moment of hesitation, they reached for the masks and slid them over their faces. They fussed with the elastic bands as they adjusted them behind their heads.
“And no peeking, you little brats! I’ll know!”
The driver smiled and looked at the blonde as she swung the passenger door closed.
“You look especially slutty today, love.”
The blonde grinned and said, “Thanks. It means a lot coming from you.” The two women chuckled. The blonde gestured at the parked Escalade. “It’s all set. Can I be the naughty one?”
