by Joseph Lallo
“That’s a lie! There was nothing like that in the bistro.”
“This issue isn’t what you may or may not have left in the bistro, it is what the police will find there. Now if you will allow me to continue—”
“Listen, I’ve seen Breaking Bad. Sudafed is one of the things they use to make meth. You’re trying to frame us as meth dealers? That’s crazy! My criminal record is spotless.”
“There are some animal-control and traffic officials who would beg to differ. But there is still the matter of Miss Tanya Willis, a young lady with an extremely checkered past who fits your description.”
“What are you talking about? Who is that?”
“No one. At least, no one currently in the police databases. But new evidence arises so frequently during these special investigations.”
“This is blackmail.”
“More accurately, this is blackmail with additional coercion, as it is clear your legitimate crimes alone aren’t sufficient to motivate you into compliance.”
“I dare you! I don’t know who you work for, but they’re going to be all over the news when I’m done with you!” She turned to Dimitrios. “I’m sorry, Mr. Spiros, but we’re going back inside. These people do not have Blodgette’s best interests at heart.”
“Herr Spiros,” Grumman asserted, “you have received considerable compensation. Do you still intend to do all that you can to ensure the success of this business venture?”
“Sure, but these three aren’t making it easy,” he said.
“Has the creature illustrated a level of recognition or trust in you?”
“Has it ever,” he said, puffing his chest out proudly. “It called me ‘Grandpa.’ The thing is an awful lot smarter than—”
“That will be all, Herr Spiros. Please stand aside. I am afraid I have been given quite clear instructions. I am to leave with the target in my possession and the secrecy of the situation assured. I mean to follow those instructions to the letter. Gentlemen?”
Gale and Dimitrios looked about, bewildered, as those of Ms. Grumman’s team that remained in the courtyard snapped into motion. Some raised their rifles immediately. Others scattered. A shattering thump came from the rear of the main cabin as those who had subtly flanked the group breached the building.
A terrified squeal erupted from Blodgette, unseen within the building, and Markus could be heard trying to calm her. Gale sprinted for the cabin door, but an armed man burst from within and backed her out into the courtyard.
“Hands where we can see them, please,” Grumman said wearily. “While I know there is no reception here, and my men have already cut the phone line, I would prefer no attempts at communication or self-defense complicate this any further. Now, inside all of you.”
#
Markus fought a breath into his lungs. As threatening as it was to have three heavily armed and armored paramilitary types surrounding him, at this moment the far greater threat was Blodgette herself. She’d been frightened before, but now she was utterly petrified, so much so that she’d forgotten all her hard-earned wisdom regarding the comparative fragility of her squishy caretaker.
“Blodgette, please,” he croaked.
She was not in any mood to listen. She trembled, armor rattling and eyes shut tightly. Every inhale was paired with a whistling whimper.
The cramped room slowly filled, first with more hired guns, then with Dimitrios, Gale, and Grumman.
Markus managed to wrestle himself into an angle that permitted more than just a shallow breath every now and then and turned an accusing eye to Dimitrios. “Who the hell have you been working with, Uncle Dimitrios?” he said.
“He seemed perfectly sensible. It’s this lady that’s unhinged,” Dimitrios said, eyeing her. “This is precisely why I don’t like dealing with subordinates.”
“Really, Mr. Spiros,” Gale said. “This is why? Because they sick jackbooted thugs on you?”
“Enough, all of you,” Grumman said. “Though the local police have been given their orders, in my experience the longer they are kept waiting the more likely they are to start sticking their noses where they don’t belong. Thus, I shall be brief. Does the creature understand our language?”
“Not so much,” Markus said.
“Good, then I can afford to be direct. You look after the well-being of this creature. That is admirable. But your choices from this point forward are limited. There are police waiting to speak to you. This carefully selected hideaway failed to keep you and your ward safe for so much as twenty-four hours. You do not have the capacity to care for or provide for this beast. My employer does. My employer also has the resources to make you disappear if you refuse to cooperate. Likewise, any who would search for you or speak in your defense could be easily silenced. Whether you like it or not, these are your last moments with this beast. You can spend them calming it and easing its transition into our able hands, or you can spend them unconscious, courtesy of a rather potent tranquilizer dart. And as trying as your current circumstances are, those you would find yourself in upon awaking would make this moment your last pleasant memory.”
Markus took stock of the situation, taking a mental tally of just how heavily outnumbered and outgunned they were.
“What do I have to do?” he said.
Gale fairly exploded at the sound of the words. “You can’t just let them—”
Two quick thwips of tranquilizers being fired cut her tirade short. She yelped, wavered, and dropped to the ground.
“I am definitely taking a good hard look at that contract when I get home,” Dimitrios said. “Seems to me like this is—”
Two more darts found their way into his thigh, and he dropped like a scarecrow.
“One of the few benefits of nonlethal weaponry,” Ms. Grumman said, stepping over Dimitrios. “Peace and quiet without the booming report. Now, young Herr Spiros, all you need to do in order to wipe away this entire mess is lead that very valuable creature into the back of our van.”
Blodgette shuddered and clutched him tighter.
“Easier said than done. Even if it wasn’t being driven by a bloodthirsty corporate villain, Blodgette’s developed a bit of a phobia of V-A-Ns.”
“Certainly a problem, but when you have solved it, it will be your last. When Blodgette disappears down the road, all your problems go with her. In exchange for this act of cooperation and your continued silence, the evidence of potential drug involvement will mysteriously vanish. Criminal files that could quite easily be linked with you will be conveniently misplaced. Voices with considerable clout will smooth over any rough patches with your education and employment. Your life will return to normal. I trust this is sufficient motivation to get your companion moving in the right direction.”
Markus sighed, defeated. “I’ll do what I can. Over there in the corner is a sooty old jacket. Bring it over here.”
Grumman nodded to one of her men, who obliged. Markus’s arms were pinned to his side, so he couldn’t take it. Fortunately he didn’t have to. During one of her brief, fleeting glimpses to see if the unwanted people had left, Blodgette spotted her much-beloved security blanket in the hands of one of the strangers and chirped angrily. When she reached out and snatched it away, Markus slipped from her grasp and substituted his hand to hold rather than his whole body.
“Blodgette, we’re going to go for a walk, okay?” he said.
He attempted to lead her forward, but she wouldn’t let him go any farther than her grip would extend, eyeing the surrounding gunmen and holding her ground.
“I’m going to need you to clear a path. At least get out of her eyeline,” Markus said.
“Get around behind it,” Grumman said. “But keep the guns up.”
When the way was clear, and Markus had coaxed for a few seconds, Blodgette grudgingly shuffled toward the hallway. She wouldn’t take more than a half step at a time, glancing with fear and bitterness at the others present. When they reached the
doorway, she stopped and pointed at Markus’s drugged friends and family.
“They’ll be fine, Blodgette. They’ll be fine. They’re sleeping,” Markus said.
Blodgette looked doubtfully at Gale and Dimitrios, but resumed her slow, cautious shuffle into the hallway.
“You know, I’ve been pretty honest with Blodgette so far,” he said to Ms. Grumman. “I’d hate to start lying to her now. They are going to be okay, right?”
“That depends entirely upon them,” Grumman said. “Herr Spiros has proved quite amenable to payment, if perhaps not with the level of understanding one would prefer in a business associate.”
“Gale’s not going to be as easy to bribe.”
“Then Gale will awaken in a few hours in police custody having been implicated in the production and distribution of methamphetamines. She will rave about a ridiculous story of corporate conspiracy and wild animals. A fate you will share if you don’t agree to hold your tongue.”
He eased Blodgette through another doorway and out toward the courtyard.
“I really wouldn’t have thought people like you existed. It all sounds so made up. Paramilitary organizations. Massive payoffs. Poaching of endangered species. I can’t believe anyone would do business this way.”
“It is the purpose of people like me to ensure that people like you continue to believe that.”
Now outdoors, all it took was a single glimpse of the van intended to transport her onward to her uncertain future for Blodgette to lock up again.
“Quickly, Herr Spiros,” Grumman said. “If I were you, I would be spending this time illustrating your value to us, and what we value most at the present moment is expedience.”
“I’m working on it,” Markus said.
His mind worked feverishly, seeking some kind of solution to this problem. Alas, on his best day he was hardly either a world-class schemer or foiler of schemes. Right now he was operating on too little sleep and too much adrenaline. Most of his ideas only got as far as clocking Ms. Grumman on the head and then being perforated with tranquilizer darts.
“Forward, Herr Spiros. Now.”
He heard the distinctive clack of a tranquilizer gun readying behind him.
“Look, this is going to sound stupid, but I need flowers.”
“Flowers,” Grumman said.
“Yeah! She likes flowers! There’s a bunch of potted plants over there. Just let me get one.”
“Stay where you are.” She addressed one of the men. “You. Get one.”
The gunman selected a bright yellow flower in a relatively intact pot. This gained the sudden and dedicated interest of Blodgette. Her complex expression suggested she was not only intrigued by the flower, but rather irritated that this stranger was touching it instead of her. She let go of Markus to reach for it.
“Don’t give it to her, give it to me,” Markus said.
He accepted the pot and stayed a step or two ahead of Blodgette as she quickened her pace to try to catch her two favorite things in the world: Markus and flowers. He made it all the way to the rear bumper before her distaste for large, confining vehicles became the driving factor in her behavior once more. Markus went as far as climbing inside the van himself, but she wouldn’t budge.
“Blodgette, listen,” he said, stepping back out. “I know half of what I’m saying is gibberish to you, but just try to focus. You’ve had a hell of a few days. We all have. I know it hasn’t been the most pleasant introduction to the world. I wish I could have done better for you, but this caught us all a little off guard. I can’t guarantee things are going to work out for us, but you’ve got to trust me that I’m doing everything I can. You’ve got to do this. I… I just don’t know what else we can do…”
The dragon gazed at him with a degree of understanding. She may not have known what he was saying, but it was clear that she knew it was important, and that something in the speech had made Markus terribly sad and upset. Where the bribes and coaxing and cajoling and threatening had failed to budge her, the look of pain and sadness on Markus’s face sparked the maternal instinct in her.
She took one heavy step after the other, each shifting and rocking the van, and climbed inside to wrap her arms around Markus. It wasn’t the terrified squeeze of a creature seeking protection. It was the warm hug of someone hoping to offer some comfort. It was a truly heartwarming moment that came to a sudden end with a single word.
“Now,” Grumman said.
Acting in unison, gunmen on the left and right sides of the van pulled open doors and stepped inside. Blodgette released a startled peep and tried to back away, but each man secured wall-mounted shackle to her ankles. At first she ignored them, continuing to back toward the rear door. When she reached the end of the chains, she stumbled and reached out to catch herself. This sent Markus face-first into the wall. He dropped to the ground and was promptly pulled from the van as other troopers moved in to affix more chains and deliver a handful of tranquilizer darts to exposed flesh.
Blodgette struggled, then huddled down. As before, in the face of danger she tried her level best to “hide” inside her armor. She squatted down and held her arms, neck, and tail as tightly as possible as her trembling caused the whole van to rattle.
“Get off of me! Get off!” Markus growled, wrestling himself free of the men who’d grabbed him.
They shut and locked the door, prompting a pitiful wail from Blodgette within.
“You can’t leave her alone in there!” he said. “She’ll have a nervous breakdown! Look at her! Listen, I’ll go anywhere you want, I’ll do anything you want. Have a goddamn heart!”
“The circumstances of my employment place a far greater value on pragmatism than sentiment,” Grumman said coldly, fetching her phone. “… Yes, sir. … Yes, we have the target loaded. … Yes. … Herr Spiros, his nephew, and an unrelated third party. No one else. … Understood.”
She ended the call and pocketed the phone. “Well, Herr Spiros, I’m happy to say that my employer has decided to take this opportunity to reduce liability and overhead.”
“What does that—”
Thwip.
He felt a hot sting of pain in his thigh, and the world blurred and swayed.
“It means that this is where we say good-bye. With any luck, you won’t wake up for the second stage of the plan.”
Markus fought mightily to remain conscious, but the large-animal sedative was potent stuff. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, the sound of Grumman’s voice echoing in his ears as someone dragged him.
“Let’s go, people. I want everything in place in five with ignition in twenty…”
#
Gale snorted groggily awake at the sound of a throaty engine roar.
“Huh? Wha…?”
She looked about, but with every motion it felt as though her brain was sloshing in her head. It was impossible to tell how long she’d been out, but however long it had been, the thugs had been busy. Assorted crates were piled on the floor around her, none of which had been present before.
A few moments of sluggish, unsteady lurching finally got her to her feet and she peered inside.
“Clever…” she slurred.
The crates here heaped with assorted drug paraphernalia. Needles, pipes, laboratory equipment… everything one might imagine finding in a meth lab.
“Hello?” she called. “Markus? Dimitur… Dim… other guy?”
Gale took two steps, caught her foot on something soft, and tumbled to the ground again. It turned out the unnoticed obstacle was Dimitrios, still utterly unconscious. She crawled over to him and tried to rouse him, but he was dead to the world.
“See?” she said, shaking her head and instantly regretting it. “If you’d drunk a few cans of that coffee, you’d be up and about too.” She used the wall to find her feet again. “Markus? Hello?”
Gale nearly tripped over him as well. They had dumped him unceremoniously on the floor in the entryway.
More drug boxes were arrayed around him, but more pressing was the contraption arranged with purposeful precariousness beside a propane tank.
“Really clever…”
It was almost a thing of beauty, a plain white emergency candle burning in the center of a nest of torn-up newspaper bunched up around it. The wax had barely begun to run—the thugs must have only lit it a few minutes ago—but left unchecked it would burn down to the paper in less than half an hour.
The crunch of gravel drew her attention to the door, which had been barricaded. In her drugged state, she vaguely remembered hearing an awful lot of banging, but even so, along with the grating that was already on the windows, they’d done a quick job of turning the cabin into the sort of place in which someone would make a last stand against the police.
Through the grated window she could see the van just pulling away.
“Not so fast!” she cried, attempting to tug open the door.
It wouldn’t budge. Despite the damage Blodgette had done to it earlier, they’d managed to board it up sufficiently enough that she wasn’t going to get it open without a crowbar. That they’d left meant there must have been another door somewhere, but with the lingering effects of the sedative, she doubted she’d find it before the candle trap made the building a lot less hospitable.
She shuffled carefully over to the incendiary threat. While her motor functions remained terribly impaired by the clash of high-octane coffee and animal tranquilizer, she felt her mind was sound enough to defuse the ticking firebomb. This feeling, of course, was the product of a mind currently at the mercy of said biochemical clash, and was only the first of several examples of flawed reasoning that would follow.
Gale at least knew it would be a terrible idea to try to move the candle. It was teetering on the edge of one of the crates and had plenty of newspaper wedged against it, so even getting close was liable to tip it over and prematurely start the blaze. The best idea then was to simply blow the candle out. She crept as near as she dared and took a deep breath.
Once again, if she’d been in her right mind, she might have realized that hyperventilation while feeling light-headed was a terrible idea. She blew once, the puff of air not quite extinguishing the flame. The second deep breath was the killing blow for her equilibrium, and she pitched forward, bashing into the crate and knocking the candle into the paper.
