The Swap

by Nancy Boyarsky

  Two men walked in and headed for the workbench. She couldn’t see their faces, but between the curtain panels that covered the door, she caught a glimpse of two sets of black-trousered legs—one pair skinny, the other wide. Right away, she knew who they were. So much for Hayes’ claim that he’d sent Chazz and Kevin away.

  The owner of the wide legs took a set of keys from a drawer and unlocked a small cupboard on the opposite wall. As he opened it, Nicole parted the curtains slightly to get a better view. The cupboard held several rows of keys in assorted sizes and shapes, hung neatly on cup hooks. Chazz removed a key, relocked the cupboard, and put the original set of keys back in the drawer. This done, he started going through the other cupboards, removing an occasional item and tossing it on the floor. Meanwhile, skinny legs lounged nearby.

  For a while, neither man spoke. Then Kevin leaned down and picked up a sack that Chazz had tossed on the floor. Kevin weighed the sack in his hands then wagged it at Chazz. “How do we know it’ll keep the body from floating to the top?” he said.

  “Because it’s concrete, stupid,” Chazz said. “You put a great lump of it round the feet and let it set. Then the body sinks to the bottom of the loch, doesn’t it?”

  “Don’t see how,” Kevin said, tossing the sack in the air and catching it. “This don’t weigh hardly noffing.”

  “You mix in water,” Chazz was saying. “The water makes it heavy. Now, put that down and make yourself useful. Get a couple of those great black rubbish sacks from the store room.”

  “He wants us to knock her off tonight, then?”

  “I already told you. The guv don’t know what he wants.” From Chazz’s tone, he was supremely impatient with Kevin, Hayes, and perhaps the whole world. “Be prepared,” he went on. “That’s all he tells me. If you ask me, he thinks he’s going to make her talk by treating her like one of the royals. I don’t know why he doesn’t let me have a go at her.”

  “You know how he is about women. He made Ben go easy on the other one, and she pulled a runner.”

  Chazz gave a derisive snort. “You think she got away?”

  “I don’t know. They says …” Kevin’s voice trailed off.

  “Nobody gets away from Ben,” Chazz said. “Nobody.”

  The pair stood in reflective silence until Kevin stirred himself and left the room, presumably to get the trash bags. Chazz resumed his search through the cupboards, tossing more items on the pile.

  At last Kevin returned. “Put that whole load a stuff in the sacks,” Chazz said. “Then we slide off to my room with a couple a beers.”

  “He told us no drinking,” Kevin said. “That shipment’s due in around 3:00 a.m., and he says meet him in the library at 2:00.”

  “There’s beer in the larder,” Chazz said, holding up the key he’d taken earlier. “It’s eight at night. Nobody tells me I can’t have a pint or two at the end of me day. Not even the guv.”

  The moment they were gone, Nicole hurried over to the drawer where Chazz had put the keys and took them out. It was hard to keep her mind on what she was doing. She kept hearing Chazz and Kevin, casually discussing whether or not they were going to kill her.

  She had to get away — now.

  Nicole unlocked the small cupboard and studied its contents. Only one key was large enough to fit the back door. She took it out and relocked the cupboard.

  A moment later, she was at the back door, trying the key. It fit.

  Slowly, she unlocked the door and opened it. She fully expected to hear the clanging of an alarm, but to her enormous relief, the house remained silent. Was it possible these people felt so removed from the outside world that they didn’t bother with any real security?

  She stepped out onto a large, screened back porch then carefully closed and relocked the door. The sun had set, but it wasn’t quite dark. It was a good moment to slip away, before the house’s external lights came on. She had already decided on a route: She’d head for the rear of the house and the woods she’d seen from her window.

  The moment she set her foot on the top step of the porch, a siren went off, and lights flashed in her face. The ear-splitting wail was like a physical assault. For a long moment she was stunned, rooted to the spot.

  Then Nicole began to run. She got about twenty feet along the garden path before she heard footsteps thundering after her. When she glanced around, she saw that it was Ben. “Come back, you stupid cow!” he shouted. “We’re on a bleeding island! You’ll never get away!”

  She kept running—across the broad lawn between the house toward the woods. Her ankle had begun to ache, and she was gasping for breath. She almost reached the fountain in the center of the lawn before he caught up with her. She struggled, but he twisted her arm behind her and half pulled, half dragged her back along the path and up the steps.

  Inside the back door, he stopped to use his key to turn off the siren. The control was in a small white box attached to the wall. Then he waved away two scruffy-looking men who came running in response to the alarm. Neither Kevin nor Chazz were anywhere in sight.

  “You’re hurting me,” Nicole said, as he hurried her through the kitchen. Ben didn’t answer, nor did he relax his grip. Instead, he marched her into the big central hallway and down the corridor that led to the library.

  Twenty-Five

  Hayes was waiting at the door to the library. His eyes lit up when he saw Nicole, and he let out a low laugh. “Oh, there you are, my dear. For a moment, we were afraid you’d taken leave of us. What a shame that would have been when we have a visitor waiting to see you. I understand he’s an old friend of yours.”

  He made an extravagant bow. Gesturing for her to follow, he disappeared through the doorway. Ben gave Nicole a shove, and she stumbled into the dim recesses of the library.

  This time there was no mistaking the smell of marijuana. As Hayes guided her toward the fireplace, he wandered rather than walked. Nicole felt a wave of disgust. Here was a man who sat around smoking dope while others did his dirty work.

  At that moment, she noticed someone standing against the wall by the fireplace as straight and still as a suit of armor. It was Kevin, looking thinner and paler than before. His eyes were fixed on a chair in front of the fireplace.

  Nicole followed his gaze and froze.

  As the man in the chair turned to look at her, she saw that it was Reinhardt. Recognition flashed in his eyes, along with a warning she couldn’t read. She wondered what he was doing here. Was he undercover, pretending to be part of Hayes’ operation?

  Then she noticed the way he was sitting, slumped slightly forward with his arms behind him. She realized that his hands were tied. He was a prisoner, too.

  Hayes broke the silence. “Am I getting the impression that the two of you aren’t exactly thrilled to see one another?”

  “You’ve made a mistake,” Nicole said. “I don’t know this man.”

  Hayes looked at her, his shoulders shaking in mirth. “Well, that’s gratitude for you. Our friend here went through all manner of heroics to break into the house in a misguided effort to rescue you. Just like — what was it they called her? Oh, yes—Rapunzel.” His entire body quivered with silent laughter as he began to chant, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair.”

  From Rapunzel, he went into a talking jag, his attention skipping from topic to topic — his adventures as a drug dealer, his duty to challenge the law and all “bureaucratic despots,” and bits of religious credo. His monologue included a drug-skewed mishmash of reincarnation, existentialism, and man’s God-given right to smoke marijuana. Meanwhile, Reinhardt regarded him with a weary impatience, as if he’d heard it all before.

  While Hayes rambled on, Nicole took a long look at Reinhardt. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and his white shirt was torn and splotched with blood. His dark hair was tousled, and she could see a shaved spot of scalp with a red, puckered line of stitches. She knew it was from the blow he’d received in the hotel corridor.

  Hayes had sto
pped talking and was staring at Nicole. When he saw that he had her attention, he glanced over at Reinhardt and assumed a long face. “I’ll be very disappointed if what she says is true — that the two of you have never met and you’ve thrown your life away on a stranger. Perhaps I’m a hopeless old romantic, but I’d like to think there was some kind of grand passion between you, or at least a spark. Well, no matter …”

  His voice faded, as if he were running out of steam. After glancing back and forth between his two guests, he rested his gaze on Reinhardt. “Your fate is entirely in this good lady’s hands. I’m giving her one last chance to tell us where the money is.”

  She already understood the situation. If she told Hayes what he wanted to know, he’d have no more use for either of them. He’d kill them both. “I told you,” she said to Hayes. “I have no idea.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Hayes said. “Ben!”

  Instantly, the man appeared in the doorway.

  “I don’t care how you do it,” Hayes said. “Find my money.”

  Ben stepped forward and grabbed Nicole by the arm. Then he pulled out a small, snub-nosed gun and pressed it to the side of her head. He looked at Reinhardt and, with a nod, motioned for him to stand up. “Start for the door,” Ben said. “We’ll be half a dozen steps behind. I’ll tell you which way to go. And I warn you. Do exactly as I say. I won’t hesitate to use this gun.”

  As they filed from the room, Kevin stepped forward, ready to join the procession, but Ben shook his head. “Stay here. I don’t want you tagging along, mucking things up.”

  Ben and Nicole followed Reinhardt out of the room. Ben kept the gun pressed to Nicole’s head, gripping her arm with his other hand. When they entered the alcove at the bottom of the rear staircase, Reinhardt was ordered to stand with his forehead against the wall, legs spread. Meanwhile, Ben got out some rope and tied Nicole’s wrists behind her. The job required two hands, and he had to let the gun dangle from his fingers. As he secured the knot, he kept looking up to make sure Reinhardt hadn’t moved. Nicole tried to keep her hands flexed, but Ben tied the rope tightly enough to kill any hope of working her hands free.

  When he was done, Ben wrapped one arm around her neck and unlocked the basement door. He ordered Reinhardt to lead them down the stairs.

  As they neared the bottom, Ben released Nicole and sent her stumbling down the last few steps. Then he hurried to the top and pointed his weapon at them. “I’m afraid I have to leave you,” he said. “But don’t get any ideas. I’ll be right back.” He went out, slamming the door. They heard a key turn; a second or two later, the lights went out, and they were in darkness.

  After Ben’s footsteps faded, Reinhardt said, “Let’s see what we can do to get these ropes off. We don’t want to be here when he comes back.”

  “I’ve got a knife,” she said. “It’s in a little bag in my pocket.”

  “Brilliant!” he said. “Move closer. If we stand side-by-side, I can get to it and cut your rope. Then you can cut mine. ”

  In the darkness, it was all very awkward. Nicole held her breath while he fumbled to get the pouch, remove the knife, and hand the pouch back to her. He opened the blade, felt for the rope around her wrists, and placed the blade in a favorable spot for cutting. Then, before the rope was completely severed, he dropped the knife. As it clattered to the floor, he hissed, “Rotten luck!”

  “Wait. My hands are almost …” She gave a last pull, and the rope dropped to the floor. “I’m free,” she said. “Don’t move. I’m going to look for the knife.” It took only a few seconds to locate it. When she stood up, she found the rope around his wrists, slipped the knife under it, and cut.

  Reinhardt withdrew his hands with a sharp intake of breath. “That does it! “ he said. “Hang on while I pick up those bits of rope. They might come in handy.” She stood still while he retrieved them.

  A moment later, he said, “Give me your hand.” And when she did, he placed it on his shoulder. “Follow me,” he whispered. “I have a plan.”

  He turned and began patting his way along the wall. Nicole followed, her hand anchored to his shoulder. It was going to be all right, she told herself. Reinhardt knew what he was doing. This was what he’d been trained for.

  He stopped and seemed to be trying a doorknob. “It’s locked,” he said. “I’ll see if I can force it with the knife.”

  “Wait,” Nicole whispered. “I’ve got something better.” She opened the pouch, removed the awl, and pressed it into his hand.

  “I must say — you’ve certainly come prepared,” he said. “This might just do the trick. I’m fairly handy with locks.”

  She drew in a quick breath. “Was it you who broke into the Lowrys’ house that afternoon?”

  He make a soft tsking sound. “Yes. Sorry about that. I do owe you an explanation, but I’m afraid that will have to wait.” He paused for a moment while the lock made a faint click, as if he’d almost managed to turn it. “Come on,” he murmured under his breath. “Come on.”

  On the floor above, she heard pounding footsteps. Then a door slammed, and all grew quiet except for the sound of Reinhardt’s breathing and the tool rattling in the lock.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

  There was a solid click as the lock released. He opened the door, and after some fumbling, flipped on a light switch. Nicole was disappointed when she saw that this was the furnace room, not the way out of the house. Directly before them, a dim bulb revealed a great, old-fashioned furnace. To their right stood several large water heaters and a coal bin. The temperature was warm, and it was difficult to breathe, as if the boilers had sucked out all the air.

  Noiselessly, Reinhardt closed the door and led her over to the furnace. “I want you to lie on the floor directly in front of the furnace as if you’re unconscious.” he said. “When he comes down the stairs, he’ll notice the light, open the door and there you’ll be. I’ll hide behind the door. Once he steps into the room to investigate, I’ll jump him from behind.”

  The floor was dusty and smelled powerfully of mold, but Nicole did as she was told. Reinhardt knelt beside her and wrapped the rope around her wrists so it would appear they were still tied.

  “That’s the way,” he said. “Now turn your head toward the furnace.” Then, as he stood up again, he added, “Whatever you do, you’re not to move or look around.”

  Despite the admonition, she turned her head long enough to watch him walk away and flatten himself against the wall. On the floor above, a door opened, and footsteps started down the basement stairs. As Nicole turned back toward the furnace, she began to see weaknesses in Reinhardt’s plan. Ben had a gun. What if he started shooting as soon as he walked in, before Reinhardt can disarm him? There was also the possibility that Reinhardt was no match for him.

  She heard the door to the next room open. Then Ben’s voice said, “What in blazes?” Then, he shouted, “Reinhardt! Reinhardt! Where are you? Don’t be a fool, man! Show yourself!”

  There was another silence, and he called Reinhardt again, this time in a less certain voice. He opened the door next to her and, after a brief hesitation, stepped into the room. “All right, woman,” he said. “What …”

  There was a loud grunt as Reinhardt jumped him from behind. Nicole was instantly on her feet, trying to scramble out of the way. For fifteen seconds or so, she was trapped in front of the furnace while the two men grappled nearby. Reinhardt pressed the point of the knife into Ben’s throat. Ben let out a guttural croak and dropped the gun. Reinhardt attempted to kick it toward Nicole, who by now had retreated into the corner. She did her best to catch it, but the gun hit the base of the coal bin and skittered away, disappearing into the shadows.

  By the time she straightened up, the two men were struggling over the knife. Ben grabbed it away, but a moment later Reinhardt kneed him in the stomach. The knife hit the floor, and it, too, spun into the darkness.

  At the start, Reinhardt had the advantage of
surprise; he was also younger, more agile, lighter on his feet. But Ben was strong and solidly built, and he seemed to have experience with this sort of combat. He kept hitting Reinhardt in the face, occasionally striking the injured side of his head. In the dim light, Nicole could see dark blood dripping from Reinhardt’s wound.

  If Ben kept hitting him like that, it was only a matter of time before he knocked Reinhardt down and moved in for the kill. Looking around, she spotted a tool lying on the back ledge of the coal bin. It was a lethal-looking contraption, a cross between a sledgehammer and a pick ax, probably used to break up large chunks of coal. She dashed around the outside of the bin and picked it up. It was heavy, perhaps sixteen or seventeen pounds, but solid and well balanced.

  The thrashing and grunting on the other side of the room stopped. Looking out from behind the coal bin, she saw that Reinhardt had Ben on the floor, face down. Using his knees to pin Ben’s arms to his sides, Reinhardt began to slam the man’s head against the cement floor — once, twice, three times.

  On the third blow, Ben went limp. After a moment, Reinhardt got up and knelt beside him to check his pulse.

  There must have been a noise, for Reinhardt looked around. Instinctively, Nicole shrank back into the shadows.

  Kevin was standing in the doorway, holding a gun. “Step away from ‘im,” he said in a tremulous voice. “On the floor. Face down.”

  Reinhardt did as he was told, and Kevin advanced toward him. Neither man glanced in Nicole’s direction.

  When he reached the two prone figures, Kevin bent over to check Ben. Then he stood up and pointed his gun at Reinhardt. “You bastard!” he said. “You rotten bastard! You bloody well killed ‘im.”

  As he spoke, Nicole ran up behind him. It took all her strength to raise the heavy tool in the air and bring it down on his head.

  Her aim was perfect. The blow made a horrible sound, loud and hollow, while blood and soft globs of something else spattered everywhere — on her face and clothes, on the wall behind her. In what seemed like slow motion, Kevin folded up and sank to the floor.