Hope To Escape

by Jack Parker

  "There's a gas station up ahead, I remember. That's where I made the report back to Angoli about you last night. When we pull in, I want you to get out of the car with me, and stay by my side. Remember," he waved the gun in her direction, "I do have a gun." Ess frowned. As if she could forget about that.

  He continued with his instructions, "If you try to speak out or run, I will shoot at you. Maybe I won't kill you, but I will shoot you in the leg or the arm to stop you. Angoli might not like it if I bring you in harmed, but he'd like it even less if I let you get away."

  A few minutes later, they pulled up to the pump. Martin got out of the car, and ran quickly to the passenger side, not allowing Ess an opportunity to bail out and dash. She was very resistant to this little excursion towards her new future role, and he knew he had to keep any possible funny business to a minimum. When he opened the door, she made no move to get out, so he forcedly pulled her from the car.

  With a tight grip around her arm and his finger on the trigger of the gun, which he again made Ess aware of as he tucked it inside the pocket of his pants, he led her to the entrance of the old gas station. When he pushed on the store's front door, it didn't budge. So, he pulled on it, and it still wouldn't give. With a bewildered look on his face, he rattled the door in the attempt to force it open. Apparently, it was locked.

  "Dammit. This store was open last night at three o'clock in the morning. Why on Earth would it be closed now at five thirty in the afternoon? These are prime business hours." Martin started losing his cheerfulness.

  Just then, the sound of scuffing feet was heard from behind them. Martin twisted around, forcing Ess to turn with him. Barely a few yards beyond them, they saw three men approaching.

  "Martin," greeted the man on the left, rather unenthusiastically.

  "What?" A very shocked Martin replied. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Martin, really? You have to ask?" The man answered while piercing him with a derisive look, and sounding as though the reason could be nothing but obvious. "We came to get her." Then he laid his eyes on her and offered a spiteful smile. "Hello, again, Esther."

  Martin practically growled, "I said that I would bring her all the way to Angoli myself. And I will. I don't need you."

  "That may or may not be true, but our orders were to meet up with you, and bring her back the rest of the way ourselves."

  During the dialogue between Martin and this man, Ess realized that she recognized him. He was the one that she had kneed and stomped on the previous night. He had the bandaged nose to prove it. This couldn't be good. He undoubtedly had no amiable opinion of her now, and she had less desire to go with him than she had to go with Martin. This conclusion actually made her cling to Martin's arm.

  "I can handle this." Martin argued back. "I found her, and I will deliver her. I don't need your help, and I won't have all the glory taken away from me. Not again." His voice neared hysterics.

  "Listen," The man had a cocky expression on his face as the other two thugs pulled out strips of leather and began wrapping them tightly over their knuckles, with their own menacing smirks visible on their faces, "I don't want any issues. Either you cooperate and hand her over, or we will take her by force."

  His declaration scared Ess even further. She did not want to be the rope in this game of human tug-of-war. Nor did she want to be the cause of further violence. She looked to Martin to see what he would do.

  The men looked ready to pounce, and Martin looked ready to piss his pants. The leader grabbed Ess's arm, and yanked her towards him. Martin did absolutely nothing to stop him. "Smart man, Martin. Smart man." His henchmen, however, looked disappointed that they weren't going to have a chance to play.

  The man dragged Ess towards a black SUV that was parked between some trees just beyond the gas station. Ess continued her struggles for freedom, but found her strength to be as useless and weak against her captors as ever. When she looked back, vaguely hoping that Martin would use his gun or try to pull some angle to get her back, she only saw him standing in the same spot they left him in, and looking defeated. She felt like crying. Although she hated Martin, and she disliked his portentous company, she would rather have been in his custody at the moment. It seemed much less likely that she could get away from these three men.

  The leader pushed her into the back seat of the vehicle. The force he used on her, assured Ess that he truly did harbor hard feelings towards her. One of the other men bound her hands and feet (not so considerately, this time), and forced her to lie down on the seat; then he jumped into the front passenger seat. The man with the broken nose got in behind the wheel; and when the last guy leapt into the jump seat in the back, the vehicle backed up with a screech and turned onto the highway.

  Ess slid along the seat, hitting her head on the door again. She looked up and saw the man with the broken nose lean over the seat to hover above her, "This time, if you fall on the floor, I'm leaving you there." He smiled cruelly at her, and turned back towards the road while stomping his foot on the gas.

  * * *

  They drove for what seemed like hours. The men talked about sports and cars and slutty women. There were also the occasional belches, which brought rounds of entertained laughter from all of them. They completely ignored Ess's presence in the vehicle.

  Yes, Ess knew this was more than just a nightmare. This was her reality. Up until this point, she still managed to shelter a vague amount of hope that she could escape, that everything might turn out all right in the end. That hope finally disappeared. Unlike the movies she'd watched and the books she'd read, this couldn't have a happy ending. No alternatives arose before her, and a terrifying conclusion loomed in sight if she thought about it, so she chose not to think. The best thing to do now would be to just go numb.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  "Oh, god!" Manda exclaimed what everyone else was feeling. "We've got to save her. We have to get her back from those . . . goons." She wrung her hands in her distress. It was bad enough when Max kidnapped Ess, and shocking when Martin took her, but now these dangerous and downright hostile strangers had the poor woman. The situation had now come to an impass. These big mobster-like men with genuine thug mentalities dragged innocent little Ess away to a location none of them knew.

  "Well, actually," Martin cut in, "I do know the location of Angoli's estate. I do work for him as his arts acquisitionist, after all. I've delivered many works to his home, and acted as a curator for his personal gallery. Max, you remember. I brought you there once to assist in arranging one of his 'Esther Art' displays."

  Max just gave him a deadly glare that said, 'The only reason I'm letting you live right now is because we need you'. Max knew that Martin was their best chance now of finding Ess. Martin knew it, too. That was the only reason he had had the guts to come out of hiding and face them.

  "Why are we still standing here?" Manda bellowed, exasperated at the delay. "We need to get moving." Turning to Martin, she ordered him, "Martin, tell us where this Angoli guy's place is." She made this demand with the complete expectation of getting an immediate answer.

  "No way," he replied back defiantly. "I'm not going to tell you." Then, with a smile he added, "But I will show you."

  "Nuh uh! You are not coming with us." Apparently, Manda decided to take it upon herself to do the negotiating with this pompous little imp.

  "Then I'm not telling you anything." Martin knew he still had the upper hand at the moment. As soon as he told them where Angoli's estate was located, he would no longer be of any use to them, and Max would undoubtedly resume thrashing him. Martin may be reckless, but he wasn't stupid.

  "Martin," Max took his turn to speak, "Why the hell do you want to come with us?"

  "Because," It seemed clear enough to Martin. "I had something Angoli wanted. I acquired what he was looking for, but instead of allowing me my credit, he sent his bodyguards to take her away from me. He stole my glory and my reward, and now I want to screw him over right back."

>   "Wow. You've got some serious vengeance issues. You know that is a clear psychological link to narcissism." Max replied, and gave Roden a meaningful look that made his friend snort with laughter. That sounded like an accurate analysis of the arrogant young con artist and thief.

  "So, why'd you wait for us to come along if you want revenge? Why didn't you just go after them?" Manda was not buying this whole thing. She hated Martin even more now than she did when she initially found out that he used her and betrayed her. How could he be so inept as to let another group of men kidnap her friend, again? Poor Ess. She was changing the hands of kidnappers like a runway model changes clothes.

  "Uh, well," Martin looked embarrassed. "I can't exactly start the car." He held up the keys in resignation.

  "What?" Now it was Roden's turn to lose his cool. That car was his prized possession. "What the hell did you do to my car?" He yelled as he swiped the keys from Martin's hand.

  "It's not what I did." Martin explained. "It's what they did. One of the guys opened the hood and took something out."

  Roden let an enraged noise escape from his throat. His car, his beautiful Bimmer, and some scoundrel had his hands under the hood? Now he was on the verge of jumping on Martin, and taking out his frustrations all over his face.

  "Now, now. Hold your horses," The old man spoke up. "Let me have a look see under the hood. I'm darn good with fixin' cars, if I may say it myself. Might just have an idea of what's wrong with it."

  Manda stood back, having no interest in cars and no desire to get even filthier then she already was, while the other four bent over the motor. The sun's rays were barely making it through the trees as the sun finished its descent, so the old man had a flashlight in his hand.

  "It was something over here on this side of the engine." Martin pointed to the general area on the passenger's side.

  It only took a moment before the man started another of his singular chuckles. "Well, well. That's easy enough." He looked up at Martin. "Guess the guy that did this, knew that ya'd have no idea about the workin's of a car. All's he did was ta disconnect the coil wire to the spark plugs. Musta took it with 'im, though, 'cuz I don't see it. I'm sure I'll have one in my junk pile that'll fit the bill jist fine. Trouble is, my junk pile's in the shed by my house. Least a' hour there an' back. If ya don't mind waitin', I can go an' git it. The repair itself 'ill take no time."

  Max looked fretfull, and Manda impatient. Still, what other options did they have? This was the quickest answer to their problem. "Fine," Roden delcared, "We can wait for that. If you'll just do whatever you need to do, we'd all be very grateful." Roden felt a bit guilty, because he had experienced so much worry for the welfare of his car when his true concern should have been for Esther's safety; but he felt too weary to keep such selfish and unhealthy thoughts under control.

  The old man, noticing the fatigue that plagued Roden's eyes, offered him the use of his cot while he was gone. Manda, too, felt tired and needed a rest. Before heading out, he showed them to the storage room of the store, where a hammock hung next to the proffered cot. Sensing Manda's reluctance to climb into it, Roden offered to give her the little bed. To Roden's surprise, she thanked him with legitimate sincerity before settling down into it.

  Max decided that resting would be the best use of his time, as well. It had to be better than anxiously sitting and waiting for the old man to return. He laid himself down in the back seat of the BMW, while Martin relaxed in the front passenger seat. The last thing Max remembered was thinking that Martin was too close for his comfort. Exhaustion only barely overrode that yearning to reach out and strike him again.

  * * *

  The next thing Max knew, the familiar rumbling of the old truck could be heard as it returned from the direction it had departed. He lifted himself from the cramped seat and noticed that the sun was rising above the trees. Oh, no! He came to with a jolt. Did they actually sleep the night away?

  Max forced Martin awake and pushed him out of the vehicle. He strode with determined anger towards the old man as he was just getting out of the aged pick-up truck. They had lost several precious hours, and he wanted answers.

  "Mornin'." the old man beamed.

  "That's right," Max narrowed his eyebrows as he spoke. "It is morning. What I want to know is why is it morning? You should have been back hours ago. Esther is out there with some dangerous men, and you stroll back here like it's just another day on the job for you?"

  If the old man was taken aback at all, he didn't show it. "The first time I came back was hours ago. Took care of the car an' everythin'. Every one of ya was out cold, sleepin' like the dead. Even my tinkerin' under the hood didn't stir ya. Figured ya needed it. 'Specially if ya have a run-in comin' up. Can't face your foes with worn-out bodies."

  Max didn't know what to say. While he would rather have gotten going as soon as the car was fixed, he couldn't force the others to do so in such a state of useless weariness. The old man did have a point. It would be best to be refreshed when going up against Angoli.

  "Come on in." The old man headed for the store. "Git yourself some coffee and we'll git ya on the road in no time."

  * * *

  About a half an hour and a full tank of gas later, they loaded themselves into the BMW, Max and Martin in the back, Manda in the front with Roden behind the wheel.

  The old man gave Roden a nod, and said to "start 'er up". Roden did so with eagerness and trepidation, and the BMW roared to life. He gave a grateful sigh, contented by the reassuring vibrations of the running motor, and felt sure that he had never heard anything so wonderful in all his life. With a look conveying the extent of his absolute gratitude, he got back out of the car to offer the old man a hearty handshake. The old man in turn looked very proud of himself, and murmered something about how nice it was to be appreciated for one's skills.

  Before they pulled away, Roden gave the old man another obliged handshake and thanked him thoroughly for all of his help.

  "No thanks needed." The old man beamed back, leaning through the window of the car so that he could address them all. "It was my pleasure ta help. You jist do what ya need ta do now. Come back around soon, an' let me know how it all turned out. That'll be thanks enough for me."

  "Certainly. No problem." Roden gave one last appreciative smile, and zipped off down the road. No one complained about his speed, not even Manda. It seemed to each of them that they couldn't get to where they needed to go fast enough.

  "Alright," Max said after a few minutes. "Which way do we go from here, Martin?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ess sat on the immense bed in the over-sized bedroom, and waited. She had no choice but to wait. After the man with the broken nose had his men force her through the gigantic, elaborately adorned entry doors of the most ostentatious house she had ever laid her eyes on, she was dragged up a needlessly wide staircase that rose higher than the stairs to her third floor apartment. Ess made sure that the climb proved a challenge for the men, as she would not go to her doom peacefully. However hard she fought, though, in the end she ended up in an opulently decorated bedroom that was nearly twice the size of her own home.

  The dark wood paneling and intricate deep-colored Indian style rugs lent a menacing feel to the space. The massive four-poster bed looked like an antique monstrosity in the middle of the room, while a dimly lit corner held a sitting area that consisted of a very formal looking chair and love seat. In front of an unlit fireplace, which had an ornately carved cherry wood and white marble mantle piece, sat an exceptionally dramatic chaise lounge. It looked poised and ready to catch a swooning damsel upon the entrance of Dracula or some other sinister creature.

  If Ess hadn't been in dire circumstances, she would have been somewhat diverted with the spectacle and the grandeur. As it was, it only lent an aura of malice to her predicament.

  Once in the room, the man with the broken nose gave her a quick tour, which was rather uncomfortable and awkward for both parties involved. He directed
her to the large walk-in closet just off of her en suite bathroom. There were many outfits for all occasions, or so he made her aware, and all the clothes and shoes were in her size.

  "Boss had all of your sizes and preference information given to a personal shopper. She took care of the details. If there's anything in there you don't like, Boss will have it replaced with something else." He didn't bother to hide his disinterest and distain for her as he spoke. Lastly, he instructed her to clean up and rest. It was late, and Angoli wouldn't be seeing her until the morning. "I'm leaving now. Too much girly shit for me for one day. Someone will be along to fetch you in the morning for breakfast. You'll be eating with Mr. Angoli, so you better be ready when you're called."

  With that he swept out of the room, followed by his thugs who had been hovering at the doorway.