MORE THAN THE MOON

by A Rosendale

  Chapter 81

  “This is called Russian roulette, Cooper,” Johnson was explaining as Cooper stared at the revolver in his hand. The man snapped open the cylinder and removed all but one bullet. With a snap of his wrist, it clicked back in place and he handed it to the child.

  Cooper’s hands shook as he stared at their captor with wide eyes.

  “Now, the idea is to shoot at your dad, then your mom, then yourself. Whoever gets the bullet loses.” His voice was calm and patient.

  Tears welled in the boy’s eyes as he stared at his parents and slowly aimed the gun at Dirk.

  “No!” Alma screamed, but it was as if she’d made no sound at all. No one reacted. She stared at her husband, who was standing in front of Cooper with a sad look on his face. But he wasn’t arguing.

  The click of the gun made her jump, but Dirk was still standing; there was no deafening blast of gunpowder and lead.

  Then her son turned the gun on her. The barrel shook as if in an earthquake. He pulled the trigger again, but the only reaction was another benign click.

  Cooper looked at Johnson, who nodded seriously, before turning the gun on himself.

  Alma screamed and tried to stop him, but her feet wouldn’t move and the scream that vibrated in her chest didn’t make an audible sound.

  The gun clicked again.

  “Wow!” Johnson laughed. “A whole round of lucky shots! Let’s go for round two. You’re a genius of some sort, right, Travers? What are the odds down to now?”

  But Dirk didn’t respond. He was staring down the barrel of the revolver, brow furrowed. He took a deep breath and Cooper pulled the trigger again.

  A loud thud on the door jerked her awake at the penultimate instant of the dream. After a long moment of listening, she decided that the sound had been her imagination. ‘These nightmares and imaginary sounds are going to kill me faster than Eric Johnson,’ she thought forebodingly.

  The bedroom door opened to admit the man himself. She shrank into the covers and peeked through the pillows as he rounded the bed and sat next to her. She scooted as far from him as possible and fought the tremors of loathing running up and down her body.

  “Good afternoon, dear,” he purred and placed a hand on the comforter covering her back.

  “Don’t touch me.” Her tone, intended to be menacing, turned out more meek and terrified.

  “Oh, Alma. I can call you Alma now, right? I mean…” His easy chuckle filled in his meaning.

  “Leave me alone,” she begged in that same disappointing voice.

  “Alright, dear. Perhaps tonight…” The bulk of his weight lifting from the mattress made the springs creak in relief. He left the room with a barbaric smile.

  Alma groaned to herself, took a deep breath to ease the sudden tension in her upset stomach, and buried her face in the pillows.

  * * *

  A scratching sound at the door poked vaguely through Dirk’s stupor. He rolled carefully off the couch in his room. Everything hurt so bad he couldn’t even pinpoint a specific injury.

  By the time he pressed his ear to the door, the scratching had stopped. All he could hear were light, fading footsteps. As he turned to go back to the moderate comfort of the sofa, his toe touched something hard on the floor. Stooping, he found two tiny screwdrivers had been shoved under the door. He smiled. Cooper was okay and he was using his resources.

  Chapter 82

  Although she thought she stayed awake all night to avoid more nightmares, Alma didn’t remember Johnson entering. But here he was, standing before her with a hanger of clothes.

  ‘No summer dress this time,’ she noted drily. He extended a pair of black slacks and a lightweight sweater that would cover all the bruises except for the one on her cheek.

  “Flescher wants to say goodbye. He asked to meet for lunch. Get dressed and do something about your face.”

  ‘Easier said than done,’ she thought. It hurt to move and she was stiff from laying tense in the same position for hours on end, even if it was in that soft bed. The bruise on her face was dark purple and green. The swelling had ebbed, but it took a significant amount of foundation and blush to disguise the color.

  * * *

  “I can’t stay long,” Flescher informed them as they sat down in the café. He’d suggested sitting outside in the beautiful summer sunlight, but Johnson had waved them inside. A glance at Alma and Cooper told him their situation was declining. The boy kept his gaze averted, his eyes shifting constantly as if looking for where the next blow would fall. Alma’s posture was meek, her shoulders slumped, chin down, whereas her upbeat poise had always intrigued him.

  “Headed back to Norway?” Johnson asked.

  He nodded. “Today is my last day in Boston. I have a meeting in D.C. tomorrow, then I head overseas the day after.” A glance at Alma told him she was listening, but pretending not to pay much heed. “Did you get in contact with the names I gave you, Eric?”

  The conversation turned to Johnson’s career. After lunch, Flescher said, “I’m going to pop into the tea shop next door. Why don’t you join me, Dr. Decker?”

  Cooper rallied himself frantically and said, “Will you go to that game store with me, Mr. Johnson?”

  Johnson’s scowl was barely detectable. He couldn’t think of an excuse to keep his eyes on Alma, so he nodded and let the boy lead him down the block.

  Flescher drew Alma into a corner of the teashop. “I managed to get two tickets to Norway.”

  “Two?” she said, disheartened.

  “I know it’s not what you hoped for, but it’s the best I could do. Maybe if I have more time, I can get your husband a ticket later.”

  “He doesn’t have that kind of time! I can’t leave him here, Mr. Flescher!”

  “Think of your son, Alma. It’s clear to me that you can’t maintain your situation.” He motioned to her cheek, where perhaps the slightest hint of a bruise could be seen under the makeup. “You need to get him out.”

  If Alma hadn’t been under such constant duress, she might have seen through the man’s lie, but she only heard the logic in his urging. She nodded and took the tickets to stuff under her sweater.

  “Thank you, Michael. I can never repay you.”

  He touched her shoulder and smiled gently. “Get in touch with me once you’re in Norway.”

  She nodded before he grabbed a random box of tealeaves and went to pay.

  They met Johnson back on the sidewalk and they all bid farewell to Flescher.

  “What did he want from you?” Johnson demanded when they were back in his car.

  She shrugged. “He just asked me to visit him in Norway some day.”

  “Hmm. It’s too bad your bucket list is coming to an end.”

  With a glare, she took Cooper’s hand and stared out the window.

  Chapter 83

  It was a surprise that Johnson joined Dr. Smith in the morning. The doctor went about his morning ritual of pressing electrodes to his patient’s body without saying a word to his employer. Johnson stood back, sipped vodka, and watched until he picked up the controller.

  “May I?”

  Smith looked at him in surprise. “Uh, yes, I suppose so.”

  Dirk furrowed his brow, but Johnson cut him off before he could argue.

  “I see now why you stopped ‘surfing’.”

  “I don’t-”

  “’Surfing’, you know, ‘surfing’ women. You were just like every other agent when you were younger. Girl in every port, port in every girl, if you get what I mean!” He laughed at his own vulgarity and bumped Dirk’s shoulder like he was sharing the joke with an old friend.

  But Dirk’s expression of bewilderment didn’t fade.

  “Oh, I know about them, most of them anyway. The girls you shacked up with on assignment, then left as soon as the job was over. But Alma stopped that, didn’t she? You don’t mind if I call her Alma instead of Dr. Decker now, right? I mean, she and I are pretty familiar.”

  Without th
e restraints, Dirk would have launched himself at the man simply on principal. He was banking on the doctor’s promise that Alma hadn’t been touched. But as it was, a curse formed on his lips and he flexed against the cuffs.

  Johnson smiled and pressed a button on the controller. His victim convulsed uncontrollably for a few seconds, then he continued his diatribe.

  “I think, though, someone else became rather familiar with you, right?”

  The words came through a dull buzz in his ears and Dirk had no idea what he was talking about.

  “In Iraq, if I recall. You must remember. Did you ever find him?”

  “What-”

  “The European who was infatuated with you. You know, I looked for him, as well, but came up empty.” He enjoyed the paling effect of his knowledge. “After the village was bombed, I had my man track down the three survivors. He was eager to provide them with information on your destination vacation with Alma in Venice.”

  Wonder gave way to rage and Dirk pulled at the restraints. “They tried to-”

  “I know what they tried to do to her. And really, Travers, it’s no worse treatment than she’s receiving now.”

  “You-” He was cut off by another zap that sapped energy.

  “I also know what they did to you.” Using his free hand, he gripped Dirk’s left hand and wrenched it so the palm faced up. A delighted grin lit his face as he traced the faded white scar across the skin. “Did it hurt?” he asked curiously, then laughed. “Of course it did!” He buzzed the controller again.

  “How do you know all of this?” Dirk asked breathlessly as the tingling faded from the tip of his nose.

  “I told you, Travers. I pored over reports of you for years, slavering at any ounce of discomfort you experienced, following your every move with the men in my employ. By the way, how many times did you drag Alma down with you? I mean, outside of this time, the last time.”

  Dirk opened his mouth to reply, but Johnson cut him off again.

  “Do you even know how many times she discounted a stranger staring at her on the street? Even on that first date at the Palm, she noticed someone staring after you outside. My man told me she pegged him, and was surprised when you didn’t pursue him. Turns out, she thought she was being silly. How many times did she circle the block to make sure a figure behind her didn’t follow her up to your apartment? Did you ever wonder why she insisted on hiring a private babysitter that was astronomically priced rather than using the free daycare through Boston University?”

  “I know the life we lived wasn’t fair to her,” Dirk defended. “But we did it together. I tried to break things off with her a number of times. She knew about my career. She wanted this. She’s a strong woman, Johnson. You may have noticed by now.”

  Johnson smiled slyly. “She used to be a strong woman.” He leaned close to Dirk’s ear. “I broke her.” He pressed the button while straightening.

  While another round of buzzing faded from Dirk’s ears, he heard Johnson ask, “What does this do, Doctor?”

  “That changes the intensity.”

  “So if I…”

  “That’s not a safe setting! I wouldn’t-”

  “Let’s give it a shot!” Johnson cranked the dial and slammed his thumb down on the button.

  Dirk felt like his entire body had just been turned inside out. The eggshell ceiling dissolved in bright white flashes in his vision. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire; blood boiled in his veins.

  “Stop!” Smith ordered, wrenching the controller from Johnson’s grasp. “You’ll kill him with that!”

  The big man laughed and retrieved his vodka glass. He cast a final glance at Travers, still writhing, and left the room.

  Smith was cursing under his breath and pressing a stethoscope to his patient’s chest when the white flashes dulled to a rainbow of pixelated dots. He waited anxiously until Dirk drew a shaky, but deep breath, the first in almost two minutes.

  “You still with me, Travers?” he asked quietly. Vitals were returning to normal and he thought the man was still conscious. Tiny moans and whimpers escaped his lips, unbecoming of the same man who’d bloodied and bruised his tormenter less than two days previously. He quickly flicked off the restraints.

  “Come on, Travers.” With deft, practiced hands, Smith set up IV fluids.

  Chapter 84

  “Wyatt?” Cooper called quietly through the door.

  “Hey, bud. Come on in.”

  He made sure the coast was clear before picking the lock and slipping inside.

  “You okay?” Ramsey asked, worried the boy was in the same shape as two days ago. But the split lip was closed and healing and no tears stained his cheeks.

  Cooper shrugged to avoid answering. “I just wanted to tell you that Mr. Flescher gave Mom airplane tickets to Norway for tomorrow morning. But just two…”

  Ramsey read the heartbreak in his young green eyes. “I told you Flescher was rotten. He only wants to get Alma away from Johnson so he can-” He cleared his throat to keep from finishing. “It’s okay, Coop. Your dad and I will figure something out. You just get your mom out of here. And for crying out loud, exchange those tickets. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  “But, how will you find us?”

  Ramsey smiled. “Oh, you know your mom and dad. They’ll connect somehow, right?” He exuded far more confidence than he felt. Who knew what shape Travers was in by this point? And he was in no great form himself. But what was important was the straightening of Cooper’s shoulders and the slight lift to his chin. As long as the boy felt courageous enough to escape with his mother, Ramsey had done his job.

  “I think Mr. Johnson hurt my mom,” he confided.

  Ramsey frowned. “I think he might have, too. But she’s going to be all right. Everything will be fine, bud.”

  * * *

  Smith paced the room, thoughts boiling in turmoil. First and foremost, he considered Johnson’s words as they met this morning.

  “I believe this job will be concluding soon. I won’t need your services any further. Anyway, you’ve only treated a quarter of my problems, so that’s what your paycheck will reflect.”

  Smith had been speechless and outraged at the sudden pay cut. He’d turned from the office without a word, blind anger making it impossible to form a response. Marching upstairs, he’d stopped outside the other three prisoners’ rooms. The conversation he’d eavesdropped on through the FBI agent’s door was astonishing.

  Now he battled with himself over the information.

  Travers groaned as he became aware. He started to roll onto his side, but Smith caught his shoulder.

  “You’ve got an IV in this arm,” he warned.

  Travers groaned again and shifted on his back instead.

  The doctor flashed a light in the man’s eyes. “How do you-”

  “Like I barely survived a Louisiana barbeque as the main course,” he moaned.

  Smith took the humor as a good sign and had to smile. He cast a suspicious glance at the closed door and leaned close. “I need to tell you this before one of Johnson’s lackeys comes in.” He waited for the man to focus on his serious face. “Ambassador Flescher procured two tickets for your wife and son to escape to Norway. It doesn’t sound like he’s anticipating rescuing you or Agent Ramsey.” Now that he’d said it, it felt good to do something right, to tell the truth to a man in need.

  Travers nodded slowly. “Okay. That’s good. At least they’ll be safe.”

  “I’m not sure how they’ll get out of the mansion. The tickets are for tomorrow morning.”

  He sighed wearily. “Okay.” Then he shook his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I took an oath to protect-”

  “No, really,” Travers insisted.

  Smith evaluated him again with narrowed eyes. “Johnson shafted me.”

  “Ah. What a surprise.” He nodded at the fluids dripping into his veins. “Hence the gentle treatment?”

  Smith scowled at how
easily his motives had been read and shrugged. “That bastard can rot for all I care.” He tapped the nearly empty saline unit. “You’ve got a unit of fluids on board. How’s the pain level?”

  “Not great,” he admitted, shifting with a grunt. Every inch throbbed with imaginary left over electricity.

  There was a rattle of pills while the doctor fumbled in his bag. “These,” he presented a tiny plastic bag of drugs, “will dull the pain and provide a brief dose of adrenaline. Take them forty-five minutes or so before you intend to move.”

  Travers narrowed his gaze to examine the man. “Forgive me if I second-guess your sincerity.”

  Smith scowled. “I want to see Johnson in hell. Just take the damn pills.” He scooped his belongings into the bag, including the IV lines. “I hope you annihilate the bastard.”

  “Thanks,” Travers said slowly.

  Without another word, Smith stalked from the room.

  Chapter 85

  It was after five o’clock when Dirk picked the lock and slipped from the room. He made directly for the secret stairwell across the hall and tiptoed downstairs. A glance around the corner showed the kitchen had recently been in use with dirty pans in the sink, but the chef was absent. He snuck over the warm tile, tugged a knife from the block by the stove, and crept around the island to glance into the dining room. A white tablecloth was adorned with fine china and candles. The flames flickered warmly over the walls. Johnson was seated at the head of the table, clearly waiting for more guests. For now, he was alone.

  Dirk inched out of the kitchen and approached the man from behind. When Johnson was just out of reach, Lusana entered from the far doorway. The whites of the man’s eyes glowed in the dim candlelight and he fumbled for a weapon.

  Johnson whirled in his chair and stood as Dirk hurried across the room.

  Dirk and Johnson tumbled into the dining table, jostling the candles until they fell. The little orange flames grasped the tablecloth eagerly and spread across the lace. Dirk shoved the big man away and they rolled across the room.