Angel in the Full Moon

by Don Easton

  He crept back from the house and slowly made his way across the backyard, crouching to keep his silhouette even with the bushes around him. He was at the midpoint in the yard when he realized that the back door to the house was wide open. His pulse quickened as he quickly knelt beside a shrub.

  Bushes rustled close to him and his body tensed before realizing that it was just the wind. Slowly, he turned his head and scanned the backyard again. The house backed onto a lane, but the only access was a small gate beside a wooden structure that held garbage cans. He did not see anyone and waited. With the wind picking up, and the hint of more rain to come, it did not make sense that someone would leave the back door of a house open for long.

  Moments later, a car drove slowly down the lane behind him. He held his breath as the headlights flickered past the cracks between the board fence behind him, hoping that the headlights would not reveal his silhouette to anyone who might look out from the house.

  Without warning, the small gate to the lane smashed back against the fence.

  Jack instinctively reached for the butt of his 9 mm that stuck from the holster on the back of his hip. He waited, unaware that his mouth was open as his body went into survival mode ... acutely listening for any sound of danger.

  The gate smashed a second time and Jack realized it too, had been left open and was simply at the mercy of the wind.

  He took out his phone and used his jacket to shield the light as he jabbed the numbers. The sound of the wind covered the tone that each number emitted as he dialled.

  Laura took the call on her cell.

  “It’s me,” whispered Jack. “I’m hiding in the backyard behind some bushes—the back door to the house is open ... but I don’t see anyone around. Lights on in the kitchen and basement. I’m going to wait a few minutes. A gate to the lane was also left open. Maybe the owner popped over to the neighbour’s place or something. Would be just my luck to have him come back as I’m leaving.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Just hang tough where you are, this might take awhile. If a car comes, lay on the horn a couple of times and I’ll leave through the back gate.”

  “Got it.”

  “I’m shutting my phone off. See ya later.”

  The longer Jack waited, the more his curiosity got to him. What the hell, I’m not a cat ...

  He got to his feet and crept toward the gate in the lane and quietly slid the bolt to latch it shut. A hole cut into the wood would still allow a hand to reach through and open it, but he hoped the noise would alert him first.

  He stood erect and walked straight toward the back door. If someone comes out I’ll say I was walking past in the lane—noticed the door was left open and was coming to close it like a good Samaritan.

  As he neared, he saw a smear on the door. Muddy hand print ... He stepped closer, his eyes looking past the door and into the foyer behind. A couple steps up to the kitchen—more steps leading down to the basement.

  He took another look at the door. That’s not mud! He looked at the bloody handprint and glanced down at the linoleum floor. Bright red drops of blood leading to the basement stairs—not even congealed yet!

  The muffled sound of a girl’s scream came up the basement staircase.

  Jack jerked his pistol from the holster and raced inside.

  chapter thirty-eight

  Laura accepted the next call on her cellphone and recognized her husband’s voice.

  “What are you up to?” Elvis asked. “Want me to put dinner on the stove?”

  “Oh, hello,” said Laura, as she sat sideways in the seat, watching the two Russians, who were listening closely to her conversation. “Yes, I’m just out with that good-lookin’ fiancé of mine. We’re shopping.”

  “I see,” replied Elvis, who was not unaccustomed to the coded phone conversations he had with his wife when she was working undercover. “Bad time to chat?”

  “That sounds nice,” replied Laura. “Tomorrow night would be fine for dinner.”

  “Maybe I’ll call Natasha and see if she wants to join me for dinner tonight,” Elvis chuckled. “I bet she’s available.”

  Laura smiled and hung up.

  Jack ran down the basement stairs while fumbling to turn on his phone. The first room he entered contained weight-lifting equipment and he followed the sound of a man’s laughter and a girl crying to the next room.

  He saw a small panelled door that was partially open in the wall and quickly pushed the redial button on his phone.

  Busy signal! Not now, Laura!

  Another scream caused him to yank open the passage door and crouch down to enter. The sound of the man’s laughter abruptly stopped and Jack knew he had been heard. His finger tightened on the trigger and he pointed his gun in front of him as he scrambled through.

  The first thing Jack saw was a naked man staring at him. The man’s arm muscles bulged as he gripped a naked young girl by her hair. The girl had a length of chain wrapped around her ankle.

  Jack started to rise out of the passageway and screamed, “Police! Don’t—”

  A flicker of movement out of the corner of Jack’s eye caused him to lurch to one side, but he wasn’t fast enough. His wrist went numb instantly and his gun clamoured to the floor.

  Dúc!

  Jack ducked as a second swing of the bat breezed through the hair on the top of his head.

  Jack stared at Dúc’s face and saw Bien chained to the floor in the background.

  “You!” shouted Dúc.“I know you!” he snarled. His eyebrows furled over his eyes in a look of hate and he stepped forward, swinging the bat with both hands as Jack leaped farther back.

  “Behind you!” shouted Bien. “Pops!”

  Jack turned and placed a side kick at Pops’s naked midriff, causing him to let out a loud grunt and stumble back. Dúc reached for the gun on the floor, but Jack stepped forward to kick him in the face. Dúc saw it coming and stepped back, putting both hands back on the bat and raising it over his head.

  Jack raised his left arm to try to block Dúc’s forearms, while pulling his right fist back to deliver a blow.

  Bien’s second cry of warning coincided with a vicelike grip as Pops wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist, lifting him off the floor.

  Jack gasped for air as he felt the muscular arms tighten under his rib cage. He instinctively used the heel of his shoe to kick back and scraped down the front of Pops’s shin.

  “Get his gun!” yelled Pops.

  Dúc stepped forward to pick it up but Jack gave a well-aimed kick and sent the gun flying through the passageway. Jack writhed and twisted his body. He knew that he could not free himself before Dúc reached the gun.

  By the smile that appeared on Dúc’s face, he knew it, too.

  “Okay, you got me,” said Jack, letting his body go limp. Pops lowered Jack’s feet to the floor but did not relent on the pressure around his waist.

  “Hurry up,” said Pops. “Get his gun.”

  Dúc bent to go out the door and Jack yelled, “Hey, duck face!”

  Dúc looked up just as Jack spit on his face.

  An unintelligible sound emitted from Dúc’s throat and he immediately stepped forward and cocked his arm to punch Jack in the face.

  “No! Get his—”

  Pops’s words were drowned out by Dúc’s vomit-sounding wretch as Jack kicked him in the groin, partially lifting him off the floor.

  A gurgling rumble continued to emit from Dúc’s throat and he doubled over in pain. Jack grabbed Dúc by his hair, jerking his head upright, while simultaneously landing a karate chop to the back of his neck with his other hand.

  Dúc’s neck broke the first time, but Jack still managed to whip his victim’s head back and deliver a second blow before Pops managed to twist him away.

  “Get up!” screamed Pops. “Get up!” he yelled, before realizing that Dúc would never move again.

  Jack reached behind his head with both hands in an attempt to grip Pops’s head and
gouge out his eyes with his thumbs, but discovered that the numbness had gone from his wrist and the sharp pain that replaced it told him that Dúc’s swing with the bat had broken a bone.

  Pops spun around fast, bashing the side of Jack’s head against the wall, before crashing to the floor on top of him and delivering a violent punch to Jack’s midriff.

  The air exploded out of Jack’s mouth like a burst balloon. For a few seconds he was helpless as he lay sprawled on his back, trying to gulp in air as Pops sat on top of him.

  Jack was only partially aware of Linh’s scream as she crashed to the floor when Pops yanked on the chain. Seconds later he felt a loop of chain around his neck.

  Jack tried to claw at Pops’s face with his good hand, but Pops leaned back and positioned his knee, pressing Jack’s arm to the floor before putting a hand on Jack’s forehead, pushing his head to the floor while sitting upright and yanking on the chain around Jack’s neck with his other hand.

  Linh screamed and came flailing at Pops with both hands. He dropped the chain and punched her in the temple. She fell in a dazed clump to the floor.

  Pops picked up the chain again, yanking it tighter around Jack’s throat.

  Jack felt the darkness swooning in on him. His struggle was becoming weaker.

  Their eyes met and Pops smiled down at him, before leaning back and reefing harder on the chain while Jack’s legs kicked involuntarily as his body craved for air.

  Pops position now gave Jack a little more movement with his good hand.

  Got ya!

  Laura answered her cellphone again.

  “I could use some help,” yelled Jack. “I found Linh.”

  “You what? Where? Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not. Get in here! Leave the guys in the car and go around back of the house. The door’s open. Just follow the noise!”

  “What noise?” asked Laura, while stepping out of the car onto the quiet street.

  “It sounds like this,” said Jack.

  Laura heard a long, high-pitched scream over her phone and Jack said, “It’s the sound of a guy getting his nuts crushed. Want to hear it again? Listen ...”

  Moments later, Laura saw Jack’s gun and picked it up as she scrambled through the passageway door with a gun in each hand.

  “Who are you? Two-gun gringo?” asked Jack, as she entered the room.

  Laura saw a naked man on his hands and knees as Jack knelt beside him with one hand clenching the man’s scrotum. In front of her, Dúc lay motionless on the floor while Bien and Linh, both with chains on their ankles, clung to each other in the middle of the room.

  “Bien? What ... Jack? What is going on?” asked Laura.

  Jack wrenched his hand tightly, leaving Pops screaming and writhing on the floor behind him, before walking over to retrieve his gun from Laura.

  Jack pointed his gun at Pops, as Laura bent over to look at Dúc.

  “I broke his neck,” said Jack, with a nod of his head toward Dúc. “He’s either dead or paralyzed. He’s not talking so ...”

  Laura put her fingers on Dúc’s neck. After a couple of seconds she shook her head and said, “He won’t be talking again. Mind telling me what the heck just happened?”

  Jack quickly told Laura what had happened.

  Laura pointed at Dúc and said, “They didn’t teach that at the Academy.”

  “No,” said Jack. “That was extracurricular. Bush Survival 101.”

  “Bush Survival?”

  “Learned how to wring a duck’s neck,” said Jack, before turning to Bien, who was holding Linh. She was sobbing in his arms. “How is she doing? That was quite a punch.”

  “She says she is okay,” sobbed Bien.

  “Mind telling us how you got to be here?” Jack asked.

  Bien used his hand to wipe the tears from his face. In short, halting sentences, he told them of the invitation he had received to the restaurant and what led up to him finding Linh.

  Bien pointed at Pops’s clothes piled on the floor and said, “The key to the padlock on my ankle is in his pants.

  Jack glanced at Laura and said, “Do you mind? My wrist hurts ... and maybe Pops will think I can’t shoot with my other hand and try to escape.”

  Pops glared up at Jack from where he lay on the floor.

  Laura holstered her gun and quickly freed Bien. She tried to open Linh’s padlock but the key did not fit.

  “Where is it?” demanded Laura, pointing an angry finger at Pops. “The key! Where is it?”

  “Fuck you,” replied Pops.

  “I’ll cover him,” Jack whispered to Laura. “Go back to the car and take the cuffs off the Russians. Kick them out and tell them they’ve got twenty minutes to get out of the area. That should give them enough time to find a payphone and call a cab.” He gave a nod of his head toward Pops and said, “Once he’s cuffed, I’ll pick the lock on Linh’s ankle.”

  “That sounds good except for one thing,” said Laura, “and I’ll take care of that right now!” She looked at Bien and said, “Take Linh and move to the far side of the room.”

  As Bien and Linh complied, Laura walked over to Pops and said, “Get up on your hands and knees! Now!”

  Pops slowly obeyed.

  “Crawl,” ordered Laura. “Hands and knees only. Go over to the other side of the room.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Jack hid a smile when Laura placed the barrel of her gun between his buttocks and cocked the hammer back.

  “You see him, eh, Jack?” she said. “He tried to grab my gun and escape.”

  Pops quickly crawled across the floor to the chain that had held Bien moments before.

  “Now,” Laura demanded. “Put that chain on your own ankle. Tight! Then padlock it!”

  Pops did as ordered before glaring up at her.

  “So how does it feel?” asked Laura. “You better get used to it. You’ll be spending the rest of your life in a cell.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You pathetic piece of drivel,” said Laura. “You don’t even have the brains to form a proper sentence.”

  “Fuck you!” yelled Pops again in rage.

  Laura looked at Jack and said, “I’ll go get the cuffs out of the car. If you’re up to it, I think you are probably safe to take a crack at the padlock while I’m gone.”

  “I’m up to it. It’s my wrist that’s broken, not my fingers. Hang on a second,” said Jack, as he walked over to a large box in the corner. He looked in the box and saw some box cutters, pliers, a CO2 pistol, candles, matches, an electric cattle prod, and an assortment of girls’ clothing. That son of a bitch! I want to kill him so bad ...

  Laura also looked inside. “Oh, man,” she muttered. “I better get the cuffs. If I stay here, I will shoot him.”

  Jack reached in and pulled out a jacket to give to Linh. “Hurry back, we’ve got some things to discuss.”

  Bien weakly pointed at the jacket and started to cry while Linh buried her face in his neck. Laura paused and glanced at Pops, who was now smiling. She hurried to the car.

  Moments later, Laura returned, dangling a set of handcuffs in front of her. “It’s done,” she said. “I left yours in the glove box.”

  “Our terrorists?” whispered Jack.

  “Took off on the run. How you making out?”

  “Doing okay,” said Jack, as the lock sprung open and he helped Linh to remove the chain from her ankle. When she was free, she immediately turned to wrap her arms around Bien’s neck once more as he kneeled beside her.

  “Cuff him,” said Jack. “I’ll cover.”

  Laura ordered Pops to lay face down on the floor while she cuffed him with his hands behind his back. She was about to use the key to release the padlock and take the chain off his ankle when Jack said, “That can wait a minute. Come here, we should talk about some things first.”

  Jack and Laura stood by the passage door and turned their backs so they could talk in private.

  “We’ve got to get Linh to a
hospital,” whispered Jack.

  “While you were getting the cuffs, Bien spoke with her. She says she wasn’t sexually abused, but even if she wasn’t, she’s still traumatized.”

  “So let’s call an ambulance and bring in the troops.”

  “For sure, but now there is no need to make up our informant story. Let’s just say that we did follow Dúc and he led us here. We’ll say we didn’t realize Bien was with him until—”

  “No!” screamed Pops in a high-pitched voice.

  Jack spun around and saw Bien running toward Pops with a knife in his hand.

  “Bien, no!” yelled Jack, as he leaped, tackling Bien around the legs and sending him crashing to the floor.

  By the sound of Pops’s anguished squeal, Jack knew that he was too late as he grabbed Bien by the back of his shirt and flung him off.

  Pops looked up from the floor, his eyes wide with fright as he lay on his side.

  “He stabbed me!” Pops said, as his eyes became fixated on the knife handle protruding from the side of his chest—and the deep, dark-coloured pool of blood spilling out onto the floor.

  Jack saw that Laura had grabbed Bien, dragging him backwards as she restrained him from behind, wrapping one of her arms around his throat, while using her other hand to bend his wrist up high behind his back.

  Linh cried loudly, ran up and tried to pull Laura off.

  “Pull it out,” pleaded Pops.

  “Not a good idea,” said Jack. “Lie still.”

  Jack spun around, grabbing Bien by the front of his shirt.

  “Why?” Jack demanded.

  “If you were a father, you would know why,” retorted Bien.

  “You are still a father!” sputtered Jack. “You’ve got Linh to take care of! Who will look after her now?”

  Bien stared dumbfounded down at his daughter. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor sobbing as Linh hugged him.

  Laura let him go and reached for her cellphone, but Jack put his hand on her arm and said, “What are you doing?”

  “Calling an ambulance.”

  “They’ll never make it in time,” whispered Jack. “Look at the colour of that blood,” he said, pointing to Pops. “It’s in his liver. He’ll be dead before he ever makes it to the hospital.”