The Kidnapping of Paul McCartney

by Richard Dorrance

  Pulling into the Waffle House parking lot and looking through the windows, he saw at least three guys who had been part of the show the night he convinced them it was in their own best interest to burn their place down. Hallelujah. In he walked, said hello to the waitress, who remembered him because of the nice tip, pulled his gun, walked behind the counter and up to the guy who had tried to remove his classy green pants from behind, grabbed the plate holding the guy’s ‘meat lovers special’ with his left hand, and dumped the whole mass of syrup, butter, and sausage on the guy’s head. Then he stuck his gun in the guy’s surprised face and said, “Remember me?”

  Two minutes later he put the napkin with the little map showing directions to the quonset hut on it in his pocket, herded all the SYAMF boys into the walk-in freezer in back, locked the lock on the outside of the door, politely requested the waitress to not let them out for an hour, subsidized the request with two one hundred dollar bills from his pocket, and started to walk out. The waitress said, “They might freeze in there in an hour.”

  Jinny said, “That bother you?”

  “Not really.”

  And he left.

  Chapter 62 – Renee and Paul Meet

  Back in the big house Scotilly said, “She what?”

  “She wants to come here, go into the bunker with the others.”

  Jools said, “Renee Fleming wants to spend time in a moldy concrete bunker, work on the songs?”

  “She said if it’s ok with Paul McCartney, it’s ok with her.”

  When Gwen had gotten the call from Jinny that he had found the rathole, she had called Jools and told him what she wanted. Scotilly said, “This is spinning out of control. It started with us wanting to kidnap one person, and now we’re going to have four house guests.”

  “You consider housing people in the bunker to be house guests?”

  She ignored the dig and said, “God, it is cool though, isn’t it? First Paul McCartney, and now Renee Fleming, in our house, doing our bidding, producing great art. If she wants to, why not. But how are you going to get her here without her knowing where she is?”

  “We can do the old hood over the head trick. I’ll meet her on the other side of the bridge, hood her up, bring her over.”

  “You don’t think having someone with a hood over their head in the passenger seat might strike someone as odd, driving around Sullivan’s Island?”

  “She’ll be down on the floor. No problem.”

  And that’s what happened. After the Junes left for the assault, Renee called a cab, which arrived showing The Green Taxi Company logo on the front door and The Environment is Our Business, Too on the rear. When the Pakistani driver dropped the beautiful woman off in the parking lot of the supermarket, which he found odd, he looked at the bridge in the distance, and thought he hadn’t been over to Sullivan’s since taking the guy with the harmonica to the big house. He wondered what had happened with that strange scene, the other guy with a gun, a CIA agent. It was hard to hide a car with all the unusual logos and advertising designs all over it, painted a Day-Glo green, but the driver had an intuition, and decided to hang around. He parked behind a Budweiser delivery truck, where he could see the woman. He had to admit, the Americans produced some very beautiful women, and this one with such a nice voice. His cell phone rang, and his wife gave him the address of a fare, but he told her he was occupied and couldn’t take it right then. She asked him what he was occupied with, was he taking a nap, and he countered by saying he was hiding in a parking lot, watching a beautiful American woman. His ploy worked, and she said to call her when he was done with his current fare.

  Ten minutes later a car pulled up to the woman and she got in. The car headed back the direction from which it had come, over the bridge and over the Inland Waterway. The cab followed, and the Sullivan’s Island weirdness continued when the cab driver saw the woman pull a black hood over her head and then disappear from view. This made him wish he lived on Sullivan’s, maybe with the beautiful woman, but if not, then maybe with the CIA agent or the guy who played harmonica so well, instead of in the little apartment he shared with his wife of twenty-five years, whose figure resembled one of the hollow, shellacked gourds that sat as a decoration on top of the kitchen cabinet and held their stock of bulgur. His wife had served him boiled bulgur three times a week for all of those twenty-five years, so he knew it well.

  He followed the car down the same side street he had driven carrying the harmonica and CIA guys, and watched it pull into the same driveway that he had pulled into two weeks earlier. He watched the woman reappear, open the door, stand up, remove the hood, and shake out her long chestnut hair. The driver of the car took her by the arm, got her suitcase out of the rear seat, and disappeared with her into the thick vegetation at the side of the big house. The Pakistani guy thought, this place is jumpin’.

  Jools unlocked the heavy iron doors of the bunker and led Renee inside. They walked down the dank smelling corridor and turned into the living room. Paul McCartney stood up from the sofa and looked at Renee Fleming. She looked first at Anna and Stella, smiled, and then looked at Paul. The electricity arced between them like the back of a scared cat. The vibration of their melding intuitions filled the room, hardly leaving space for the others to breathe. Paul smiled at her, and she raised a hand at him. He walked across the room to her and said, “Hey Renn.”

  She said, “Hey Paul. We going to sing a little together?”

  “We’re going to sing together like no two people have sung before.”

  “When? When we going to sing?”

  And he led her down the corridor.

  Chapter 63 – The Assault

  Jinny set the napkin on the seat next to him and put his gun on it to keep it from blowing out the window. He pulled off the interstate two exits down, drove a mile on a two lane road, and watched for the pull off onto a dirt road just past the sign that advertised taxidermy and deer dressing. The map on the napkin indicated a turn off of this road onto another, with the quonset hut at the end. He made the last turn, and found a pull off into the long leaf pine woods. Jinny took a long pull on a bottle of water, retied his shoe laces, and checked the load in his gun, which he returned to his hip. He closed his eyes and conjured up a vision of Gale, which he let sit in his consciousness for ten lovely seconds. With this as motivation, he walked down the center of the road covered with a thin layer of pine needles. Ten minutes later the quonset hut came into view, with the Dodge Ram parked on one side. Jinny watched for ten minutes, but there was no sound or movement. Then the door opened, and out came the man he, Roger, and Constantine had braced on Church Street near the Junes house. It was the guy who told them his name was Adolf Hitler, and had grabbed his crotch and said, “Piss on all three of you.” Jinny remembered him pretty well. The guy was dressed in Tshirt and jeans, but no socks or shoes, and he was pissed. He stomped around outside the hut, looking at the ground, trying to light a cigarette, but finally crushing it and throwing into the dirt. He heard the guy say to himself, “How does she do that?” watched him take a deep breath, and go back inside.

  That was enough for Jinny, who melted back into the woods and down the road. When Gwen answered her phone he said, “I got them. Or one of them, at least.”

  “What do you mean ‘got them’? They still alive?”

  “For now.” And he gave her directions.

  “Stay good. We’re on our way. We’re about thirty-five minutes away. Hear me?”

  “I hear you. Walk the last quarter mile. It’s quiet out here.”

  Thirty-five minutes later he walked out of the trees in front of Gwen, Roger, Slev, Constantine, Guignard, Stirg, and Nev. The assault force. Gwen took charge and issued orders. Three people to the far side of the clearing, staying in the trees; Roger to cross the clearing and look in a window; the rest to stay in the trees this side of the clearing. Depending on what he saw, Roger was to break a window and toss in a stu
n grenade. Everyone to come to the front end of the quonset hut to avoid a crossfire, and blow through the door. Jinny goes in first and Nev second. Inside, Gwen to shield Gale, and Constantine to shield Richard. Her orders were simple and direct, especially her last one: shoot first and ask questions later.

  It had been twenty years since Stirg had done something like this, and it brought back memories. Jinny looked at Guignard, smiled, and blew her a kiss. In return she blinked her eyes at him, three times. Gwen looked around for questions, saw and heard none, and walked on.

  It took four minutes for the team to get into position. When Roger saw this, he nodded at Gwen, and, with gun in hand and fanny back with the M84 in it on his stomach side, sprinted across the open space to the side of the hut, which had two windows on each side. He caught his breath, stilled his nerves, and carefully looked in a window. Directly in front of him he saw five people sitting around a small table, playing cards. Gale was wearing her burgundy blouse, emerald skirt, and white pumps with green stitching. Richard was naked, and sat slouched on his chair, but had a faint smile on his face. Roger saw the chain around his left ankle. One of the other men at the table also was naked and sitting slouched, but he didn’t have a smile on his face. A second man had on a pair of boxers and one sock; that was it. He held cards in his hand. The third man, the one who had come outside the hut for a breather and to curse himself, wore a pair of jockeys and two socks; that was it for him. This was the BMNLIBC….the boss man no longer in black clothes.

  Roger again looked at Gale, and this time noticed she also had a chain around one ankle, which snaked across the floor to the engine block. He saw no guns. He dropped below the window and stood upright with his back against the corrugated silver metal siding of the hut. Gwen watched him, knowing he was processing what he saw, hoping it was not going to be bad news. After ten seconds Roger looked across the clearing to where he knew Gwen was hidden, and motioned to her to come to him. Without a seconds hesitation she sprinted across the open space, to stand beside him. He nodded at the window, and she carefully looked in. When she too had processed what she saw, she stood and whispered in his ear, “What’s going on?”

  He smiled, shook his head, and said, “Strip poker. Gale has the goons down to their shorts.”

  Gwen remembered about Gale and her father, and it made sense. She smiled, and thought, “This is going to work out ok.” She said, “No grenades,” and Roger nodded. “Did you see any guns?” He nodded, no. She hadn’t either. She ducked under the other window and went to the rear of the hut, where she gave the signal to Stirg, Nev, and Guignard to come. Then she did the same on the front side with Constantine and Slev. Lined up at the door of the hut, they looked like army guys going into a mess hall for chow. Quietly and with only a few words she told them the situation inside. No guns in sight, so no shooting by them. No grenades. When everyone nodded, she put Jinny at the door with Nev behind, and mouthed the word, Go.

  Ten seconds later the Junies had the poker table surrounded, and Jinny had the barrel of his gun pressed against the back of the BMNLIBC’s neck. Gwen covered Gale and Constantine covered Richard. Jinny said, “Remember us? Remember callin’ me a short Russian fireplug, and telling me a dog was gonna come along and piss on my head? Remember that?” The guy didn’t say anything. Neither did the other two.

  Looking at her friends, Gale said, “You couldn’t wait another half hour? I would have had all three of these nitwits bareass and humiliated. You had to steal my thunder? My revenge? That was the deal, this time. Not just a steak dinner; they had to let us go if I won. And I would have won. Christ, if this was a real game I’d of owned their pickup, their land deeds in Idaho, their children, illegitimate or not. I’d have owned the tattoos on their fucking arms. Just another half hour, that’s all.” And she threw her three queens on the table, face up. “These boys would have looked like three freshly plucked chickens, hanging in the kitchen, waiting to be put into the dinner pot, heads, claws and all. Damn!”

  Everyone gave this tirade the time it deserved, but then Richard said, “With all due respect, Gale, I’m kind of glad to see them. I’m a little cold.”

  Roger found the key to the chains, got them off Gale and Richard, and then hooked the NNs up to the engine block. Richard got dressed, Gale went into the bathroom and did her hair as best she could, and Jinny and Constantine looked around the hut, finding absolutely nothing of interest. Stirg sat down at the plastic table and stared at his adversaries, saying nothing. Nev went outside and over to a shed in which he found a shovel. When he came back in, he leaned it up against the table. The three boys from Idaho, even the NSSMNLIBC, understood the symbolism. When everyone was back around the table, Stirg said, “Gale, Richard, you’ve had a rough time. Maybe you don’t want to be around for this next part.”

  She said, “What next part?” Worried about how bad she smelled after three days in the hut with no shower and the constant threat of being gangbanged, she hadn’t noticed the shovel. Slev touched her shoulder and pointed to it. Gale picked up quickly and said, “Oh, the grave digging. No, I’m down with that. Richard?”

  Richard, being a writer, and therefore a noodle when it comes to retribution and violence, said, “Um, can’t we just call the authorities. Turn them over to them. Let justice take its course?”

  Jinny looked at Guignard and said, “Maybe you can take Richard back to the cars. This won’t take long. If we can find two more shovels, shouldn’t take more than half an hour. Then we’ll all be back at The Hall for champagne.”

  This conversation had the effect of transferring the attention of the NNs from the humiliation of their total or partial nakedness in front of four women, to the continuation of their capability to exist among the living. Jinny’s nonchalance at suggesting they soon would be feeding the worms was more than a little disquieting. Stirg still hadn’t said anything or taken his gaze off them.

  Gwen was happy at not having to shoot anyone, and happy that Gale and Richard soon would be back in the creative fold, so she was feeling more magnanimous than Stirg and Nev. Jinny, she knew, was just playing a game, and she liked his humor. “What do you want to do with them, Gale? You were the one they kidnapped. And you heard Richard say what he wanted.”

  Now Stirg spoke up. “Wait a minute. It was me these idiots were after. They wanted to swap Gale and Richard for Anna, who they said they wanted to violate to get back at me. I have a say in this, and I say they go in the ground, right now.”

  Roger said, “He’s got a point. These guys were serious about Anna and him. These are not nice men.”

  Gwen sat down on a chair and looked at the NNs, then at Stirg. “You know why they have a grudge against you?”

  “These two said I did something to someone in that one’s family a long time ago. That’s all I know.”

  She looked at the BMNLIBC and said, “If you have a story, now’s the time.”

  Wondering if he ever was going to see any more action with any ‘hoes up in the ‘Ho, he gathered his wits and laid out the pertinent points of his family history. “This guy killed my grandfather in Argentina, when I was a kid. All he was doing was growing tomatoes out in the garden, and this guy killed him. I loved my grandfather, and now it was payback time. That’s it. I fucked up,” looking daggers at Gale. “There’s always a woman behind things getting fucked up.”

  Gale said, “You’re single, right, boy?” When he didn’t answer she said, “What you just said, that might be an indication why. I whipped you in poker. I got no grudge.”

  “Well I got one, against him,” looking at Stirg. “All my granddad was doing was growing tomatoes. Big ones.” And he shut up.

  Looking at Stirg, Gwen said, “That true?”

  “I worked in Argentina. That was my job, and I’m proud of it. I didn’t personally kill anyone who was growing tomatoes out in his garden, but I was a commander, and I had agen
ts that I sent out on missions. So I can’t say. If he was a Nazi expatriate in Argentina in the 70s, then he was my enemy.” And he shut up.

  Silence settled down in the quonset hut, everyone knowing that Gwen would make the fateful decision. Gale sat down, took off her pumps, and massaged her feet. The last time she’d spent three days in pumps was that time she’d holed up at the Charleston Place Hotel with the Swedish around–the-world sailor she’d met at a party there, and some of that time was spent with them off.

  It didn’t take Gwen long to decide. “One good kidnapping deserves another. Maybe we can educate these boys some, raise them up from the level of total nitwits to that of just dumb. If that doesn’t work, Stirg, you and Nev can do what you want with them. Jinny, take them outside and douse them with the hose. They stink. Then get them dressed, but keep them chained. We can use those later today. Everyone, we’re heading back to The Hall. Now that this is over, and Renee’s in town, we have opera work to do.”

  The NN’s copious sweating slackened, and they looked at each other. Opera?

  Chapter 64 – Sleeping Arrangements

  Listening to the singing coming from the studio, Stella and Anna felt superfluous, like the other rock formations around El Capitan, in Yosemite. First Paul would sing a melody from one of his songs, and Renee would add a harmony; and then she would sing lead from Dark Hope, and he would harmonize with that. When Stella and Anna heard both a bass guitar and the piano playing, they couldn’t resist anymore, and walked down to the studio where they found Renee with the Rickenbacher on her knee and Paul on the keys. Now they felt more superfluous. They backed out and down the corridor, passing by the two rooms that used to store artillery shells, and now served as bedrooms. There were two queen beds in the room they shared, and one in Paul’s room. Anna stopped and said, “Where’s she going to sleep?”

  Stella said, “If they keep going like they’re starting out, I can guess.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, your dad’s almost seventy, right, and he still wants it?”