Hunt for the Lost Sanctum

by Wyatt Liam Anderson

  “What a fine night to hit Vegas for a good game of poker. Care to get on the flight?” an inmate asked Miles. The fellow walked and breathed Italian but talked American.

  “Nah, I’ll watch from here.”

  The coughing came again, and this time, it came in a fit that made the inmate fall off his chair.

  “Oh yeah, that’s enough,” said a brawny guy with the most peculiar tattoo—a scar on his lower arm with drops of blood tattooed along it, making it look like a bleeding cut. There were very few inmates who did not quake in his presence. He had even the worst criminal cowering at his feet.

  He stomped across the hall toward the coughing man and picked him up by the scruff of the neck. He dragged him to the window and dumped him on a chair.

  “Now listen up. I know how sad it is for you that you can’t take a puff, so stop making us feel bad for it with your incessant hacking. Sit your ass here by the window because that is where you belong.”

  The poor dude was too shocked to respond. The other inmates roared with laughter.

  “Hey, you.” The brawny guy pointed to the Italian who had approached Miles earlier. He was leaning on the wall smoking a cigar. “You owe me ten bars.”

  “Says who?”

  “I cleaned up your mess last night. I took it on myself to save your scrawny ass from solitary confinement, and you stand there yapping when you ought to lay my bars on my table,” the brawny guy retorted.

  “Wanna play poker? I could pay you with my earnings.”

  “What a smart move, dude. I’ll play poker, but I bet you’ll lose faster than you can breathe.”

  Miles smiled to himself as the men got ready for their game. Another Italian and two Mexicans joined the duo. One of the Mexicans had a broken nose that made his eyes look a few inches closer. Other inmates whispered he had tried to crack a cop’s skull open with his head and ended up with a smashed nose instead. He spoke very little but could make anyone who didn’t do his bidding disappear forever.

  The thought of earning more bars tonight filled Miles with immense satisfaction. He had come up with some type of legal tender for transactions and various deals in the prison. This currency was whispered around the prison yard as bars.

  Before he introduced a money system, inmates traded services for items and vice versa. Miles was the only one who controlled the influx of the bars, and he was the only one who knew where they came from. Somehow, he rarely had any bars on him even though he had a monopoly over its flow.

  He earned some tax on every transaction that was carried out in the prison by the inmates but gave tax waivers for huge deals. This endeared him to the Backstreet Boys within the walls of Brooklyn jail.

  “Okay, guys, ready to play?”

  The brawny Mexican shuffled a pack of cards and sat on the bench with a smirk on his face. The others took their places and sized up each other as the cards were handed out.

  “Ugh,” one of the Mexicans snorted at his card. Clearly, he didn’t get as good a hand as he wanted. He was the smallest in the group, standing at barely five feet. He was the brawny guy’s lapdog, a duty he was more than glad to perform. His small size made him an easy target for bullies, so his loyalty was borne out of the need for protection.

  The game started, and everyone watched keenly. There would always be a disputed winner, and even though they had agreed on a bet, someone was always unwilling to let go of his bar.

  “Raise,” the short Mexican called out for the third time. Somehow, he always had a stash of bars on him; his “wealth” was a much-needed compensation for what he lacked in size.

  The game continued with withering glances and jaw muscles stretched to almost breaking point. It got tougher by the minute. The other prisoners stood around and watched eagerly. Miles was only pleased each time someone called for a raise, but he secretly hoped they would all end the game without the usual brawl.

  “Okay, guys, I want in,” someone called out.

  Everyone turned to look at the daredevil who dared interrupt such a game. It was Kash, an Afro-American who was in for stealing a car and trying to sell it at the Mexican border.

  “Your offer better be good, or I’ll throw your hideout to the guards,” the brawny Mexican was always bitter, maybe because he was on death row.

  Kash did not seem fazed by the threat; he gladly took a seat and waited for his turn.

  “I did not ask you to sit yet,” the short Mexican growled.

  “Twenty bars.” Kash placed a pile of bars on the table, and someone whistled. That was quite a huge number of bars to come by.

  The dealer handed him his cards, and they continued the game. The focus of the game changed. The Mexicans had their eyes on the Italians and watched every move they made. There were over forty bars at stake, and every man wanted it for himself.

  Quickly the tempo of the game changed. The short Mexican began to sweat, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “I see what you are doing there,” one of the Italians spat. He frowned at the cards in his hands before shooting the Mexicans a deadly look.

  “No one stops you from doing the same, so quit crying like a baby. The money’s all mine,” the brawny Mexican laughed mirthlessly.

  “Okay then, I’m calling a full house,” the Italian sneered.

  The laughter died in the Mexican’s throat, and his cards dropped from his hands.

  “Full house here too,” Kash called out.

  “What do you mean you have a full house too?” the short guy asked.

  Kash presented his cards. He had the higher three of a kind, which made him the winner.

  Everyone watched in surprise as he gathered his winnings together and made to leave.

  “Not so fast,” Dean cut in. “Fifty bars and let the game begin.”

  “Hey Dean, aren’t you late on the update you promised me?” Miles asked.

  Dean looked at Miles in confusion. “But that can wait. I’ve got to teach this kid here how to poker up real good.”

  “No, it can’t wait,” Miles replied firmly.

  “C’mon, don’t let him distract you. You drop the fifty bars, let’s play,” Kash urged him on.

  “Just a moment, kiddo. I’ll be right back to whoop your ass.”

  Dean headed over to Miles to talk to him.

  “I promise you, you’re the one who’s getting their hide scrapped by that dude. See the way he thrashed those folks? He’ll make you drop all your bars on the table to salvage your wounded ego. Now come with me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Brooklyn Detention Complex

  New York

  May 2019

  "All inmates stay in your cell and make yourself visible. I repeat, make yourself visible, or you'll get a ticket," a cold, harsh voice announced over the PA.

  The bell went off, and the cell doors opened. It was time for the 10 p.m. count, the dreaded count before lights out.

  Miles stood close to the door, waiting for the guards to get to his cell. He noticed the poor guy who had earlier complained about the cold cereal on his birthday.

  The lockdown had ruined his plans; no phone calls and no birthday cakes, which the guards would've eaten anyways. He looked so dejected. A guard went up to him, and after speaking with him, the inmate gave him two packs of ramen noodles in exchange for a small brown envelope.

  The count finished much earlier than expected. Since the lockdown, inmates found it harder to sneak into each other's bed or go for quick romps with the female staff who offered eye-blinking orgasms at outrageous prices.

  Miles retired to his bed and pulled the itchy woolly blanket over him. It was the best he could get in the prison's black market and a welcome change to the threadbare material he had used his first two years. Sleep eluded him as images of his daughter flashed through his mind. He doubted if Dani ever told her about him. For all she cared, he never existed.

  Miles cursed Dani a thousand times over for keeping his daughter away from him. If he had known about
his daughter, he would have done everything within his power to be in her life.

  He had tried a few months after he was incarcerated to reach Dani, but her line never went through. She did not visit him either.

  A bright flashlight came through the steel bars as the guards walked down the corridor. Miles turned on his side and faced the wall. He dipped his finger into the plastic bottle of ink he kept under his bed and made a tiny mark on the wall beside more than a hundred other marks.

  _____

  Miles was called out the following day to see Howard. His steps were more confident even though he had to shuffle in shackles, and he had his answer ready for Howard Grant. If Howard was giving him ultimatums, then he had to accept his conditions too.

  Howard was already waiting by the time Miles showed up. He was not alone this time; he had his lawyer, a federal prosecutor, with him. The lawyer sized Miles up and dismissed him with a scowl.

  "Do you have to go to such pain to intimidate him?" Howard asked sarcastically.

  The lawyer flushed and looked away to avoid Miles's eyes. Somehow Miles felt sorry for the lawyer. It must be hard work tying and untying Howard Grant's legal knots while making sure not to get strangled by the same ropes.

  "Look at you," Howard said to Miles. "You have two visitors to yourself during a lockdown. What's better, you can sit with them all day. Think of what it'll be like if such power gets you outside those walls. A chance to reunite with your daughter."

  "You've got the gift of gab, Howard Grant. But that will not make me waver on my decision."

  Howard looked at him expectantly. "Is that a yes?"

  "Does it sound like one?"

  Howard grinned.

  "There's nothing to celebrate. I haven't given you my answer yet because there's a clause."

  Howard gave him a suspicious look.

  "Look, you don't give me conditions. You should be grateful that I took it on me to save your ass from languishing in jail for another half a decade. If you aren't going to do things my way, then forget it because I have no use for you."

  Miles knew Howard was bluffing, and he pushed his luck.

  "If you want to get me out of here, you have to make it worth my while. Maybe I have to call the guard now."

  "Mr. Neumann, I must say I'm surprised at the impunity with which you fling Mr. Grant's benevolence in his face. Do you realize I can tie you up in legal problems faster than you can blink?" the lawyer threatened.

  "What do you want, Neumann? I don't have all day to waste."

  "If I am going to work for you, I have to choose my team," Miles replied.

  "That's not possible," Howard retorted.

  Howard felt backed into a corner.

  "And who are these people you want to team up with? Where can we find them, and can we trust them to do a good job?" Howard asked.

  "They are right here."

  "If you're asking me to let loose some dogs to come and ruin our peace, then you're wrong. You're asking for a gang, not a team."

  "Take it or leave it, Howard. I think I've made a fair bargain. I just need five men, and that's all."

  ______

  New York City

  The familiar roofs loomed in the distance as the bus drew closer to the city. The trees looked greener and the shops more crowded with both people and merchandise even though it was an hour after dusk.

  The streets were filled with the same folks who hardly spared anyone a glance as they hurried on along the pavement. The bus stopped in front of a building that wasn’t there before Miles went away. Although he had a busy schedule before his incarceration, Miles knew the city like the back of his hands.

  The other passengers hurried out of the bus as soon as it stopped and disappeared into the crowd. Miles simply stared out of the window; he had spent the last few days in prison preparing himself for this moment. He had thought he would spring out of the vehicle as Kash and Dean had done at their stops. They had been so eager and delighted at regaining their freedom and had a long list of what to do on their first night.

  “Hey, are you going back to Brooklyn?” the bus driver asked.

  Miles picked up his duffel bag and made his way out of the bus. The stream of people passing by him was overwhelming at first, but he was soon caught up in a rush. Unlike Kash and Dean, he did not have a to-do list. He simply moved along with the crowd until he got to a familiar intersection. Miles crossed the street to the other side and walked until he came to a familiar sign.

  The neon lights dazzled and blazed boldly on top of the building. Miles recalled the day he had met Dani here. He had been a regular there, coming around every time he needed a break from his cocoon, as he put it. Miles was the kind of nerd who worked hard and played hard, so he came around to the club a couple of times to unwind.

  The club had a strict code, and Miles was thankful for the oxford shirt and matching pants he wore. He was worried that his shoes were a bit out of fashion, but the bouncer wouldn’t notice.

  He got through the entrance and went straight to the bar, where he had a good view of who came in and went out of the club. Miles took a seat and ordered a drink, hoping no one would recognize him. His picture had been all over the news, but it had been five years, and he doubted if anyone would remember him. While no one knew of his release yet, there were chances he could run into old friends, although he was barely recognizable with his beard and a new haircut.

  Miles stared hungrily at the bevy of beautiful women that came into the club. They were a sight for his sore eyes, with their flawless and irresistible bodies. Some of them fought for his attention, and a few others boldly approached him, but somehow, he could not bring himself to welcome their seduction.

  It had been five years since he saw Dani, and he was sure she could've changed a lot. But he had no doubt she'd keep her classy look to stay in business.

  "Hey, long day, huh?" A girl slid into the stool beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Nice shirt you got."

  Miles was distracted by her smile and voice. Her hand found its way to one of his buttons, and she fiddled with it. She was messing with his mind, and she knew it. Heck, he could take a quickie he badly needed, but he had something more important to do.

  "Yeah, it's been a long day, and I'm ready to unwind. But a martini would be just fine for that."

  "I'll be sitting right over there when you're ready." She pointed to a group of girls laughing and drinking close to the dancing floor.

  Miles watched her go. Her fluid and scintillating movement made him wonder if he had really made a sane decision.

  In need for a distraction, he took out his phone and searched for Dani's social media profile. She looked as glamorous as ever with that enrapturing smile he had once loved. As expected, there were many pictures of Dani at different parties. She had a whole album of pictures taken on a yacht and a lot more others on some remote island. She was so beautiful and carefree, even with the baby bump.

  Miles fight so hard to control his emotions when he came across the picture of a little baby. She looked so heavenly he couldn't hold back the tear that formed at the corner of his eye. He continued to go through the photos, smiling at some milestone and frowning at others he couldn't understand.

  Then the very image he had dreaded stared back at him. In one of the recent photos, a funny-looking man had his arm around Dani's waist while he carried the little girl in his other arm.

  He was just content sipping his drink and watching people. Then he saw her. She was walking to the door with a man who had his arm around her shoulder.

  No sooner had they gone outside the building than Miles followed suit. He paid for his drink and headed out. He had not expected to see Dani there. For all he knew, she could have skipped town. He followed her at a distance until they got to the car lot.

  Dani got into an expensive car with a man. Maybe she finally landed herself a rich boyfriend, Miles thought. Miles took down the car registration number and waited for them to leave.
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  But Miles didn’t hear anyone starting the engine. He wondered what they were up to when he noticed the car moving up and down in sync with the moans and groans that filled the car lot.

  The sound filled him with so much repulsion, and he felt sick to his stomach. He turned his face away in disgust and covered his ears in an attempt to block out the infuriating sounds.

  Dani stepped out of the car and hurried away to the other side of the parking lot. Miles followed her quietly until she came to her car. It was the car he had bought shortly before he went to prison. Miles hurried back to the road and hailed a taxi; he asked the driver to follow Dani.

  Miles followed Dani to a low-profile part of the town. The houses were built so close to each other, and a stale smell lingered in the air. Hookers and dangerous-looking fellows littered the sides of the streets.

  He was surprised Dani would sojourn in such a place. She had always seemed to have good taste. Perhaps raising a child alone had taken a toll on her, and it was all about survival.

  A babysitter walked out the door with a little girl who held a teddy in her arms as soon as Dani pulled up in front of the house. The babysitter demanded her money and stomped away, cussing into the night.

  Miles watched Dani and the little girl disappear into the house before he ordered the taxi driver to take him to a hotel.

  _____

  The next day, Miles dragged his feet up the dirty steps with a doll in one hand and some other gifts in the other. He had planned on getting something for Dani, but their relationship was already strained before he went behind bars, and they had not spoken in five years.

  Miles took in a deep breath before he pressed the doorbell. There was yelling and swearing before someone opened the door. A skinny man with untidy long hair, blackened lips, and shaky hands stared back at Miles with empty eyes.

  “Dani, you’ve got someone at the door!” the man yelled.

  “Don’t you ever get visitors? He could be here for you,” Dani replied from somewhere inside the house.