The Stash (An Action Packed Adventure Thriller filled with Suspense)

by Dan Fletcher

  ‘How long will it be?’ said Happy, his stomach growling in anticipation.

  ‘They said twenty minutes at the most,’ Patience replied, taking a seat beside the small writing desk and removing his shoes. He flexed his toes, they began to swell once released from their confines. He hadn’t removed them since the failed escape in Tilbury. Sleeping with them on when it was his turn to save time if necessary.

  ‘Bloody hell they pong a bit,’ Alan said, theatrically fanning his nose. Patience glared at him silently.

  About fifteen minutes later there was a polite knock on the door. Happy opened it, with his gun behind his back. He let the bell-boy push the trolley far enough inside the doorway that he could close it. The man waited with his hands behind his back, expecting a tip. Happy looked him up and down and then slammed the door.

  The trolley was covered in a white cloth, and the food with two silver domes to keep the heat in. Next to them was the packet of pain-killers. Happy threw them at Alan and lifted up one of the silver domes.

  ‘What the hell is this shit?’ he said, uncovering the most fantastic club sandwich ever made. There was chicken, bacon, tuna, cheese, beef, salad and who knew what else, all sandwiched between triangle quarters of bread that stretched across the circular platter in gallant rows. Alan thought it was one of the most wonderful things he had ever seen. It smelt just as good. His mouth started producing copious amounts of saliva in anticipation.

  ‘That’s for them. I didn’t think they would like our food so I ordered that, any problem? Ours must be under the other one,’ Patience replied, un-phased.

  Happy lifted the other cover to reveal two steaming bowls of rice with three cubes of beef on top, drenched in an oily red liquid.

  ‘Ahhhh! That’s more like it,’ Happy said, smiling genuinely, which was a rare occurrence.

  Happy took the platter with the bowls over to the reading desk leaving the trolley where it was.

  ‘Well help yourself. You don’t expect me to feed you?’ Happy thought it was a waste of time full stop. ‘There is not much point you eating anyway.’

  ‘Why do you say that mate?’ said Alan, making his way to the trolley, using the bed for support.

  ‘You don’t think the Chief really bought return tickets for you and your friend, do you?’ said Happy, pointing at John with the spoon he was using. ‘You two have a one way trip,’ he said, bursting into laughter that sounded like a hyena choking.

  ‘What do you mean? You heard what your boss said. He’s gonna let us go once we deliver the package,’ Alan said, feeling something move in the pit of his stomach.

  Happy’s chuckles became howls and he spat out some rice out that he was chewing. ‘You don’t really believe him do you? You really are stupider than you look.’ To Happy this was one of the funniest things he had ever heard, but then he had known the Chief for a lot longer than Alan.

  ‘Can you believe it,’ he said, looking at Patience, ‘this fool thinks they are going on a paid vacation!’ He was guffawing now, heaving with laughter.

  Patience carried on eating dispassionately. It meant nothing to him either way, but he could see how Happy might find it funny, after all he was a sick bastard.

  ‘You mean he’s gonna kill us after all this crap. Why?’ said Alan, not comprehending.

  ‘You stole from him. Nobody steals from the Chief,’ Happy replied.

  ‘But what about my wife and kids? They didn’t do anything, he’s going to let them go isn’t he?’ said Alan, feeling the blood drain out of him.

  ‘I guess so. He said he would, but you on the other hand?’ Happy said, letting out a tremendous belch. Bored with the conversation, he turned his attention back to his food.

  Alan’s appetite evaporated, the bite of the sandwich in his mouth half-chewed. Kill us? But why bother taking us to America to do it? Remembering his friend he turned to John. Got to try and wake him up, make him eat something. He took the glass and threw some of its contents over John’s face. He blinked his eyes open and lifted his head, a good sign.

  ‘Where the hell am I?’ he mumbled faintly.

  ‘Never mind that, take these,’ Alan said, removing four of the painkillers from the strip. He didn’t think a double dose would do either of them any harm. He got John to swallow his and then took four as well for good measure. John looked slightly more awake, but not much.

  ‘Can I smell food?’ he said, weakly.

  ‘Yes mate, here you go,’ Alan replied, holding a sandwich to his mouth. John nibbled at it. Every mouthful was painful to swallow and grated his throat like sandpaper. The food made him feel slightly better though, whether it was the act itself, or replenishing his strength, he wasn’t sure. It just felt good so he ate a bit more.

  ‘That’s the way mate. Slow down though,’ Alan said, taking the sandwich away for a moment to give him time to swallow. After John had eaten two of the quarters, Alan had some more himself, feeling a lot better for it. He decided to keep the information Happy had shared with him to himself for the moment. That could wait. The priority right now was to make sure John recovered some strength. He realised they were going to have to attempt to escape again at some point, and they would need it. Not only their lives depended on it, but the girls as well.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  ‘Dinner’s ready!’ shouted Mary-Anne, who was trying her best to maintain an air of normality in the house. Tony had been at work all day, which had somehow lifted the air of tension slightly. The women left to their own devices kept the girls amused by baking, painting and playing games with them. Doing anything to try and distract them from the cloud hanging over them all.

  Vanessa had found it difficult at first. She wanted to do something to help John. Eventually she resigned herself to the fact that anything they did do might have disastrous consequences. Making the best of it, she threw herself into entertaining the children.

  They took their seats at the kitchen table and Mary-Anne tried to keep the conversation going whilst they ate. ‘So did you have a good day at work darling,’ she asked Tony, putting another fork full of pork chop into her mouth.

  ‘OK, I suppose. That idiot Matt cracked the toilet bowl when he was fixing it to the floor. Told him it would have to come out of his wages, but I can’t do that really. Not on what I pay him.’ He laughed at his own joke, ‘I guess there won’t be as much profit on this one.’

  ‘Never mind love. There’s always the next one,’ Mary-Anne replied, knowing it would be exactly the same. Tony never seemed to make much money. Enough to live on, but not enough to save for a holiday or buy anything luxurious. Still, she hadn’t married him for the money, she loved him dearly.

  ‘Yes I suppose,’ he replied, not convinced himself. He was fully aware of his short comings and didn’t need anybody else to point them out. He was at heart a humble man, who would do anything for his supportive wife. She always said the right thing.

  ‘Do you think Daddy’s home yet?’ said Lucy, looking at them with hope in her yes. The adults stopped chewing and looked at each other for support.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll phone when he gets there.’ Caitlyn had called his cell phone numerous times and obtained the answer phone each time. It was probably charging in the house somewhere. He usually turned it off at the weekends. She hated herself. It was her fault it wasn’t on for complaining that work always interrupted them. She prayed to God he was OK.

  ‘Now what would you like for desert? I’ve got chocolate ice-cream or there’s fruit,’ said Mary-Anne, knowing the answer and changing the subject smoothly.

  ‘Chocolate ice-cream!’ cried the two girls.

  ‘OK then. Finish your peas and you can both have a bowl,’ she replied.

  ‘Finish my peas? But I don’t like them,’ Lucy said, staring at them as if they might attack her.

  ‘Don’t be silly, eat a few more or there’ll be no dessert,’ said Mary-Anne, trying to act stern. Although looking into Lucy’s face made it very difficult, today more
than most days.

  ‘I can eat a couple I suppose,’ Lucy replied bravely, trying to spear some peas that kept running away. ‘They won’t keep still.’

  ‘Here let me help you,’ Vanessa said, sitting next to her, smiling. She turned the fork over and gave her a small mouthful. ‘See like that. It’s easier this way,’ she said giving her the fork. Lucy was very pleased to have learnt a new skill, and ate all the peas before realising she had.

  ‘Hey that’s not fair,’ she said, realising what she’d done, ‘I didn’t want to eat all of them!’

  ‘Well you have, so now you can have some ice-cream. Come on, help me clear away and it’ll be faster,’ Mary-Anne said, chuckling at Lucy.

  ‘Don’t laugh at me,’ Lucy said adamantly, but got up to help anyway, the lure of chocolate ice-cream too great to resist.

  ‘I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing with you,’ replied her Aunt, trying to contain herself.

  Finishing their desert, they managed to steer the girls away from the subject of their missing father by talking about what they would watch on TV later. The girls finally went to bed a little after nine o’clock.

  ‘Do you think Daddy’s OK Mummy?’ said Lucy, as she tucked her in.

  ‘Of course he is darling. You know your Dad, he’s always OK! Now go to sleep, there’s a good girl. Night, night,’ she replied.

  ‘Night Mum. Love you,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Good night Rachel. Love you too darling I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said, closing the door on them. She leant against it with her head and sighed deeply. She hoped he was OK, he had to be. Caitlyn didn’t know what she would do without him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  ‘Sir, it looks like they’re moving,’ Efe said, spotting the gates beginning to open before him.

  ‘Ok, wait for them to get around the corner and then follow them. Make sure they don’t see you turn on the lights,’ Dayo replied, putting on his belt.

  They ducked as the Chief’s headlights illuminated them briefly as his car swung past. Tailing them Dayo decided to radio the officer following the others, to see if they had left the hotel. The lieutenant had called earlier to confirm his guessed destination. They drove through the city, keeping as far back as possible. When they turned onto Agege Motor Road, Dayo knew exactly where they were heading. He picked up his cell phone and dialled the Commander.

  ‘Hello, what’s going on?’ said the jumpy voice, when it was picked up.

  ‘He’s heading for the airport sir. The others are still at the hotel.’ Dayo had been giving the Commander regular updates.

  ‘The airport! You better stop him immediately. We don’t want him fleeing the country. Have you called for back-up?’ said the Commander, who was now like a cat on a hot tin roof.

  ‘Not yet sir. I thought I’d call you first. Where do you think he’s going?’ Dayo said.

  ‘I don’t know. We think he just received a shipment of heroin from Asia, but it’s just a rumour. We still haven’t been able to tap his cell phone. He keeps changing the damn thing...hold on a minute,’ replied the Commander, it sounded like he was speaking to someone in the background, but the receiver was muffled. He was conferring with the Minister.

  ‘Wherever he goes, follow him! We want to know what he’s up to. As long as we don’t alert him he’ll be back again. I’m going to call the lieutenant and get them to pull back for now. We’ll make sure nothing leaves the warehouse and wait for developments. Is that clear?’ said the Commander.

  ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea sir. We should be...,’ Dayo was cut short.

  ‘Don’t think Dayo, just do what I say and get on with it! He might just be meeting someone after all. If he is flying somewhere, call me and I’ll pay for the tickets with my credit card. Is that perfectly clear,’ shouted the Commander, not pleased with the situation but under pressure from the Minister.

  ‘Yes sir. What about cash sir?’

  ‘Cash?’ said the Commander, incredulously.

  ‘Well, we’ll need some money won’t we sir. I mean if we are going to follow him,’ Dayo replied reasonably.

  ‘We’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it. Call me when you know what he’s up to,’ said the Commander, hanging up the phone.

  Dayo exhaled loudly. Why did the powers that be always think that things were so simple? When they’d never done it themselves? They were approaching the airport terminal now, and the Chief’s car was negating the hundreds of taxis and other vehicles parked haphazardly in front of the terminal. It pulled to a stop in front of ‘DEPARTURES’, and the driver got out to open the Chief’s door, whilst his son got out from the other side and removed a suitcase from the trunk. The driver hurried over to take it from him, looking embarrassed that he didn’t get there first.

  Dayo parked out of sight and turned to Efe, ‘Stay in the car and listen for the radio. If there is any movement from the hotel call me immediately.’ He left the car and headed into the terminal behind the Chief and the others. They didn’t know him, so there was no risk of being discovered. He walked behind them casually, as they made their way to the UNITED AIRLINES check-in-desk. The TV monitor above said ‘WASHINGTON DC’, and underneath in smaller letters ‘Dulles International’. He waited a moment to make sure they were both checking in. They were. Shit!

  Dayo moved away, to make sure he was out of earshot, and dialled the commander’s number.

  ‘Yes?’ was the abrupt reply after one ring.

  ‘They’re getting on a plane to Washington. What do you want me to do?’ he said, hoping the Commander had changed his mind.

  ‘I told you, follow them! Leave Lieutenant Efe behind with the car. We can only afford one ticket with the budget the way it is,’ he said, hoping the minister sitting next to him got the hint. How did they expect him to battle multi-millionaire drugs barons on a few measly Nairas?

  ‘Will you be letting the Americans know that I am on my way?’ said Dayo, hoping that he wasn’t expected to do this single-handed.

  ‘I’ll phone the DEA to let them know that you’re coming. We have no jurisdiction there, so if anything does happen let them handle it. Is that understood? We just want you to observe,’ replied the Commander.

  ‘Understood, sir. I’ll send Lieutenant Efe to pick up my passport while I buy the ticket. Hopefully he’ll get back here in time. I’ll call again when I get to the front of the queue,’ he said, looking at the throng in front of the customer service desk. What did the Commander expect him to do, arrest him with his finger?

  He went out to the car and relayed his instructions to the lieutenant, who sped off to get the passport with his house keys. Dayo went back inside. The Chief and Tunge were still some way back in the queue. He better call his wife, she was expecting him to be late, but to get home at some point. She was becoming tired of the late hours and weekends he had to put in at work. Preparing himself for another ear bashing, he dialled their home number.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Having eaten as much as he could, about two thirds of a sandwich, John had fallen back into a deep sleep and was out to the world. Happy and Patience had stayed in the room watching TV for a few hours, and then gone into the other room. Confident they could see any movement toward the exit through the open adjoining door.

  Alan had never seen such crap in his life, and that was saying something after installing the three hundred free-view channels at home. It seemed to be a soap opera about a family sitting by the edge of a maize plantation. In three, half-hour, episodes they never moved from the boxes and ground that they were sitting on. He guessed it could be brilliant, the Nigerian version of the hit TV show ‘The Royal Family’, but not understanding the language he wasn’t sure, and somehow doubted it.

  The TV could be heard in the other room, the volume turned low. But he could also hear deep snoring coming from one of them, probably the big one by the sound of it. From his bed near the patio door Alan could only hear them.

&nb
sp; His thoughts had been swaying from staying with John, to trying to make a run for it. He couldn’t decide the best thing to do.

  They planned to kill them. That much was obvious. So they needed to try and escape somehow, but John was in no state to go anywhere. Certainly not climb down five floors of balconies, which is what Alan was planning. He was reluctant to leave his friend, but had come to the conclusion that it was the only chance they had. If he could find a policeman, something he didn’t like doing, they might be able to save John and rescue the girls. John was going to be in no condition to fend for himself for days, if not weeks. Alan tried not to think what his friend’s arm would look like, if it ever got the chance to heal.

  He waited another couple of hours, to make sure they were completely relaxed. Neither of them came in to check on them in that time. Slowly he pushed himself to a standing position, resting most of the weight on his good leg. He waited, straining to hear any movement. There was none.

  He shuffled to the patio doors, a few feet away, and held on to the handle, listening, again nothing. He pushed up the latch, and gently slid the door open a couple of feet. A warm sticky breeze entered the room, bellowing the net curtains. Alan slipped outside, without making a sound, closing the door behind him.

  He looked sorrowfully back at John before turning to the task ahead. Leaning over the metal railings he realised just how painful that was going to be. It wasn’t really that difficult, he would have to lower himself down on each level and swing down to the next. The problem was going to be landing. He glanced around, but the pool area was deserted now, the lights off and the bar shut.

  Alan put his bad leg over the railing, and made a mental note not to look down again until he was at the bottom. He swung his other leg over, and after resting on his stomach for a second to prepare, he started lowering himself using only his arms. He got to the bar along the bottom of the railings, and swung inwards as he dropped. He tried to keep the weight off his leg as much as possible, but it still took some of the impact. The pain shot up his spine, and Alan gritted his teeth against any sound coming out. The lights were on in the room, but thankfully the curtains were closed.