by Tim Kizer
“Get his wallet and phone,” Pruitt said to Ryan.
Ryan pulled Sam’s wallet and disposable phone from his pockets and handed them to Pruitt. Pruitt opened the wallet, looked at it for a moment, and then said, “Let’s go.”
They went to the garage and got in Pruitt’s Mercedes.
Were they taking him to the woods?
“Where are we going?” Sam asked as they drove out of the garage, his palms sweaty, his heart pounding harder than ever.
“You’ll see,” said Pruitt, who sat behind the wheel.
“Is it about money? If twenty million is too much, we can lower the price.”
There was nothing he could do to save himself right now.
It was impossible for him to escape from the car because he was sandwiched between Ryan and the burly man.
“It’s not about money.”
“Then what is it about?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“If anything happens to me, the company will reverse the procedure and Paul’s consciousness will go back to his old sick body.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“You don’t have to pay us anything. Just let me go.”
“It’s not about money, Jake.”
“We have a lot of powerful friends. If you hurt me, they’re going to destroy you.”
Pruitt laughed. “Please shut up.”
When they entered I-35E northbound, Pruitt ordered Ryan to put a sack on Sam’s head, and he did. About half an hour later the car stopped, and Ryan pulled the sack off.
“Get out,” he said.
Sam climbed out of the Mercedes and saw that they were in a four-car garage. Two of the other three spaces were empty and one was occupied by a silver Ford Explorer.
They entered the house and went to the great room, where Pruitt and Sam sat down across the table from each other.
“Patrick, check the other rooms and see if there’s anyone there,” Pruitt said to the burly man.
When Patrick left, Sam asked, “Where are we?”
“One of my properties.”
“So why did you kidnap me?”
“First, tell me your real name. Is it Jake Ford or Samuel Curtis?”
“Jake Ford.”
“What about the driver’s license in your wallet? It has your picture on it and it’s in the name of Samuel Curtis.”
“Sam Curtis is my alias.”
“Why do you need an alias?”
“For security reasons. Why does it matter? We helped your son, didn’t we?”
“How many people work in your company?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“Ten people.”
“Who invented this technology? You?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me. If you lie, we’ll kill you.”
“We bought the rights to this technology from the people who developed it.”
“How much did you pay them?”
“I don’t know.”
This motherfucker wanted to steal the consciousness transfer technology!
“What are their names?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t involved in this transaction.”
“Who owns New Horizons?”
“Do you want to buy the company?”
“Yes.”
“Let me talk to my boss. He knows the owners.”
“What’s your boss’s name?”
“John Branson.”
Pruitt pulled out Sam’s phone, opened the contact list, and then said, “There’s no John Branson in your contacts. Are you lying to me, Jake?”
“No, I’m not. It’s my personal phone.”
“I think there’s no John Branson. I think you’re the boss of New Horizons.”
“I’m just an employee. I talk to prospective clients and help perform the procedure.”
“I’m going to send my guys to your company’s office, and I want you to tell your people to give them the equipment used to perform the procedure.”
Patrick walked into the room, and announced, “There’s no one else in the house.”
“Very good,” Pruitt said.
“You’re not going to get away with this, Eric,” Sam said.
“I think I am.” Pruitt stood up, walked over to Sam, and handed him his phone. “Now call the office and tell your people you sent three guys to pick up the equipment. Put the call on speaker.”
“The office is closed today.”
Pruitt took the phone back, then pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
“Hi, Lucas,” he said. “Go to the office and see if it’s closed.”
Pruitt sat down, and asked Sam, “Do you have the office keys?”
What was Pruitt going to do when he discovered that there was no consciousness transfer software on those computers?
“Yes,” Sam replied.
“Give them to Ryan.”
Sam fished his keys from his pocket and handed them to Ryan, who stood beside him.
“The yellow keys,” he said.
Pruitt put the phone back to his ear and said, “Yes.” A pause. “Okay. You’ll have the key in forty minutes.” He hung up. “Do you have an alarm system?” he asked Sam.
“No.”
“Take the key to Lucas and then come back,” Pruitt said to Ryan.
“Should I take the Explorer?” Ryan asked.
“Yes. The keys are in the visor.”
Sam glanced at his watch. It was 2:17 p.m. The computers should be delivered here in about two hours.
He had two hours to figure out how to get out of this predicament.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked Pruitt.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
Pruitt said nothing.
“When did you decide to rob us?”
“Yesterday.”
I should have switched bodies with Pruitt instead of saving his son’s life.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“If you cooperate, you’ll live.”
2
Ryan came back at a quarter to four. The computers arrived half an hour later. Sam and Jeff had bought six desktops and two servers for their office, and Pruitt’s minions had taken all of them.
Sam was held in a guest bedroom on the second floor, guarded by Patrick and Ryan, while Pruitt’s men carried the computers into the house and set them up. At ten past five Patrick and Ryan escorted Sam into the dining room, where New Horizons’ computers had been installed, and Pruitt said to him, “Now I want you to show me how it’s done.”
The computers sat on the dining table; the people who had delivered them were gone. After three hours of racking his brain, Sam still had no rescue plan. Sooner or later he would have to admit to Pruitt that they hadn’t used computers to transfer Paul’s consciousness to Luke’s body. Would Pruitt let him go if he told him about the ritual?
Sam circled the table, looking intently at the computers, and then said, “We need a brain-scanning cap.”
“What’s that?” Pruitt asked.
“It’s a device that receives electrical signals from the brain and transmits them to the computer. You put it on the subject’s head.”
“Where is it?”
“Peter has it.”
Pruitt grimaced as if he had bitten into a lemon, and said, “Stop lying, Jake.”
“I’m telling you the truth. He’s the chief technician. He brings the cap to the office when we perform the procedure.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Pruitt scowled.
“I forgot. I was in shock.”
“Where does he live?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s his phone number?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit. He’s a very secretive guy.”
“How do you communicate with him?”
“Through email.”<
br />
“Is there a procedure scheduled for tonight?”
“No.”
Pruitt pointed at the chair at the head of the table. “Sit down.”
Sam did as told.
“Do you want to live, Jake?” Pruitt asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“In order to get out of this alive, you need to show me how the procedure is performed. If you don’t do it, I’ll blow your brains out. Now tell me where the brain-scanning cap is.”
“Peter’s place.”
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like a swimming cap. It has electrodes and wires on it.”
“And if we search your place in Arlington, we won’t find it?”
“No. I don’t have it. I want to cooperate with you, Eric. I have no reason not to cooperate.”
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes.”
“What’s Peter’s email address?”
Sam gave Pruitt one of his email addresses.
“I want you to log into your email,” Pruitt said.
Sam opened the Internet browser and logged into another of his email accounts. Pruitt stood behind him, and asked, “Is this the email you use to communicate with Peter?”
“Yes.”
“Get up.”
Sam stood up, and Pruitt sat down on the chair.
“Does he live in the Dallas area?” Pruitt clicked the Compose button.
“Yes.”
Pruitt typed the email address provided by Sam into the recipient field of the message. “Does he own a gun?”
“No.”
When Pruitt finished writing the email, he said to Sam, “Read it.”
The message read: “Hi, Peter. Please bring the brain-scanning cap to the office tonight at 9 p.m. We have a new client.”
“Does it look right?” Pruitt asked.
“Yeah.” Sam nodded.
Pruitt clicked the Send button.
Chapter 38
1
Pruitt looked at the computer screen, then checked his watch and said, “It’s eight o’clock, and Peter still hasn’t replied. Why?”
“Maybe he’s busy,” Sam said.
How much longer could he stall? Would Pruitt agree to wait until tomorrow night?
“Or maybe you gave me the wrong email address.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Patrick, hit him in the face.” Pruitt touched his cheek.
Patrick nodded, got up, and slammed a fist into Sam’s face, almost knocking him off the chair. Pain exploded through Sam’s head, bringing tears to his eyes, and he let out a groan. He felt dizzy for a moment.
“What the fuck?” Sam muttered, and sat upright, his left cheek throbbing. He tasted blood in his mouth.
Patrick was grinning.
“Did you give me the wrong email address?” Pruitt asked.
Sam ran his tongue over his teeth to see if any of them were broken or missing. His teeth seemed intact.
“No, I didn’t,” he said. “It’s the right email address. He’s probably not home.”
“Does he have a cellphone?”
“Yes.”
Pruitt placed his hand on the mouse and moved it forward and backward a few times. “If Peter’s not at the office at nine, Ryan will shoot you in the foot.”
“Come on, Eric! Let’s wait until Peter replies.”
“No. And if we don’t have the brain-scanning cap by midnight, we’ll kill you.”
“I have a question. Who am I going to do the procedure on?”
“You’re not going to perform the procedure. You’ll just show how to perform it.”
“How will you know that I’m telling the truth?”
Pruitt was silent for a moment and then said, “I’ll think about it after we get the cap.” He looked at the screen. “Still no reply.”
“Are you going to kill me after I show you how to do the procedure?”
“No.”
“Will you let me go?”
“Yes. But not right away. A few days later.”
Most likely, Pruitt was lying. He had no reason to let Sam go.
At five past nine Pruitt called one of his minions and asked if Peter had arrived at the office. After hanging up, he sighed heavily, glanced at the computer screen, and said, “Peter’s not at the office. Ryan’s going to shoot you in the foot, Jake. I’m sorry.”
Ryan rose to his feet, drew his pistol, and walked over to Sam.
“You want me to do it right here?” Ryan asked Pruitt.
“This is unnecessary,” Sam said, his heart fluttering wildly.
“The bullet will damage the floor.” Pruitt paused to think. “Let’s just cut off his finger.” He got up. “We’ll do it in the kitchen.”
“Eric, I have to tell you something,” Sam said.
“Go ahead.”
“I lied to you.”
“About what?”
“About the procedure. There’s no brain-scanning cap. I made it up. And these computers were in the office just for show.”
“What do you mean?” Pruitt frowned.
“We didn’t use computers to transfer your son’s consciousness to Luke’s body.”
“Then how did you do it?”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
When Pruitt opened his mouth to reply, a shot thundered, and a moment later Ryan jerked and collapsed to the carpet, a crimson splotch blooming below the breast pocket of his shirt. Before Ryan’s body hit the floor, another shot was fired. The bullet entered Patrick’s stomach, and a choked groan escaped him. Sam looked toward the archway connecting the dining room to the foyer and saw the shooter.
It was Jeff Phillips.
“Don’t kill Pruitt!” Sam shouted, his ears ringing.
He needed Pruitt alive because Pruitt owed them twenty million dollars and he wanted to collect it.
The smell of burnt gunpowder struck Sam’s nostrils. Patrick’s hand began to move toward the holster, and Jeff pulled the trigger again. Patrick’s face exploded, splattering blood and pieces of bone everywhere. Sam felt two drops of blood land on his cheek. He’s definitely dead now, Sam thought. As Patrick fell down, Jeff put another bullet in Ryan, this time in the hip.
Had the neighbors heard the gunshots?
Sam jumped up, wheeled around, and saw that Pruitt lay on the floor, staring at Jeff, his face shocked, his body contorted.
The whole shooting must have taken less than five seconds. In just five seconds he had gone from prisoner to captor, and his life was no longer in danger.
Four shots, four hits. Bravo, Dad!
Sam’s ears were still ringing.
“Are you okay?” Jeff asked him.
“Yes.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“A little.”
Jeff pointed his pistol at Pruitt and said, “Hands behind your head. Don’t make any sudden moves.”
Pruitt put his hands behind his head.
Sam breathed a sigh of relief and wiped Patrick’s blood off his cheek with his palm. “Great job, Dad.”
Jeff was wearing black leather gloves, which was very prudent of him.
“Is there anyone else in the house?” Jeff asked Pruitt.
“No,” Pruitt replied.
“There’s no one else here.” Sam searched Ryan’s pockets for the handcuff key, found it, removed the cuffs, and then picked up Ryan’s pistol.
“What did they want from you?” Jeff said as Sam pulled the gun from Patrick’s holster.
“He wanted me to show him how to do the procedure.” Sam pointed at the table. “These are our computers.”
The pools of blood Ryan and Patrick lay in were slowly growing larger. They’ll have to replace the carpet, Sam thought.
“They stole our computers?” Jeff said. “I’m very disappointed in you, Mister Pruitt.”
Sam gave Patrick’s gun to Jeff and told Pruitt to get up.
“Let’s talk, guys,” Pruitt said. “There�
�s no need for violence.”
“Sure.”
Pruitt thought he had a chance of getting out of this alive. What an idiot!
His joints creaking, Pruitt rose from the floor. He looked scared and dumbfounded.
“Hands up,” Sam commanded. “No sudden moves, okay?”
When Pruitt raised his hands, Sam reached into the millionaire’s right pants pocket and withdrew the phone. Then he pulled his burner phone from Pruitt’s back pocket. He opened his messages and discovered that Jeff had sent him a text at 1:42 p.m., which read: “What’s up?” As he fumbled in Pruitt’s left pocket, he said, “Who has the keys to the Mercedes?”
“Ryan.”
Sam lifted Pruitt’s pant legs and saw that he had no guns or knives strapped to his ankles. Smiling, he transferred the pistol to his left hand and punched Pruitt in the mouth. Pruitt grimaced with pain, baring his bloodied teeth. Sam was about to hit him one more time, and then changed his mind. He didn’t want Pruitt to think he was a violent psychopath. People tended to distrust violent psychopaths, and right now he needed Pruitt to trust him. The ass-kicking could wait until he got his money.
Pruitt didn’t complain about the assault, perhaps because he knew he deserved to be beaten. He rubbed the underside of his nose with his finger, and Sam said, “Keep your hands in the air.”
Sam went to Ryan’s corpse, slipped his hand into his left pants pocket, and felt in it. There was nothing there but a phone, which he took out. He found two car keys in the right pocket: one had a BMW logo on it and the other a Mercedes logo. He wiped the keys, which were covered with Ryan’s blood, on the carpet, put them in his pocket along with Ryan’s phone, and patted the body down for weapons.
“You didn’t bring your regular phone with you, did you?” Sam asked Jeff.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Good.”
Sam took Patrick’s phone, patted Patrick’s body down for weapons, and then handcuffed Pruitt.
“What city are we in?” he asked Jeff.
“Bartonville.”
Sam looked around for a telephone. He saw none.
“Where is it?”
“It’s near Grapevine Lake.”
Grapevine Lake was about twenty miles northwest of Dallas.
Sam went into the great room, unplugged the phone, and returned to the dining room.
“Are there surveillance cameras in this house?” Sam asked Pruitt.
“Yes. But I turned them off last night.”
