Deadly Interpretations

by Andie Alexander

  I pointed toward my chest. “You want…me?”

  “I did, but it all depends on what you want.” He looked at my head again. “You really need to lie down for that lump. It could be bad.”

  I checked him out again. Blond hair, brown eyes, a doctor type, and he wanted me. I was such a sucker for doctors, even if he was a little bit young. Jim, if he was dead, would be happy that I’d found another doctor to talk to. If he wasn’t dead, he’d be royally ticked, so I figured I’d wait to get chummy until I found out if my true love had kicked the bucket or not.

  I glanced over toward the windows. “I don’t have time to lie down. I have to get out of here and find a phone. I’m not sure who I’d call, though.”

  Brian thought for a moment. “You could call my dad. He’d know what to do.”

  “Good idea.”

  Brian winced. “Think he’ll be home? He works a lot.”

  “I know I would be if my kid were missing. You know, there will be more guards out there during a shift change, and it might be easier to go now.”

  He glanced up at the small window. “We can try, but if you’re caught, they might kill both of us.”

  “I doubt it. If I don’t try, they’ll kill us anyway. After Wednesday, I’m going to be expendable.” I got to my knees and the room started to spin again. Brian stood up and held onto my arm, helping me lean against the wall.

  “I think you should wait a while. You’re really pale.”

  “Thanks, Doc, but I need to do this.”

  He smiled. “Doc. How funny is that?”

  “Not funny at all from where I’m standing.” I returned to the main room, leaning against the wall the whole time, then looked up at the small windows, which weren’t that brightly lit. “Do you know where this leads to outside? Is it near any guards and where they walk or stand?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s in the back of the house.”

  “Good.” I turned toward him, trying not to pass out. “Can you boost me up to the windows?”

  He put his hands on my waist and lifted me up to the windows. I looked out to make sure the coast was clear before I tried to pry one of them ajar. It opened after a bit of trying, and I put my head through. “I can make this,” I whispered, holding onto the edge of the window outside. “What’s your dad’s number?”

  He rattled off a bunch of numbers, but there was no way I’d remember it with my headache. “Yeah. Got it.” I was a good liar and Jim was wrong about that.

  I glanced around for guards, but no one was in the area. I climbed out of the window, stood up and hid in the shadows. Before I made my getaway, I reached up to take the necklace off my neck, but it was gone. I’d guessed they’d removed it at some point, because of the GPS. They couldn’t track me, but that also meant the good guys couldn’t find me, either.

  The night air felt good on my head, and I looked around to assess the situation. The moon was halfway illuminated, which gave me some light, but wouldn’t give me away.

  Off in the distance, behind the house, were some trees. If I could make it there, I might see some civilization somewhere.

  Assuming the front of the house was facing south and I was facing north, I walked to my left, to what I figured to be the western the corner of the house, and peeked around the side. Two guards were smoking cigarettes and talking. I inhaled deeply, letting the scent waft toward my nose. What I wouldn’t have done for one of those cigarettes.

  I shook my head. That kind of thinking would get me killed, which wasn’t a good thing. I went to the right, to the eastern side of the house and peeked around that corner. No one was there, but I saw a big light about a hundred yards away to the east, past a small group of trees. I just hoped I could run in my heels and my throbbing head wouldn’t slow me down.

  I crouched low and ran across an open field. With the semi-darkness on my side for a cover, it also meant I couldn’t see very well. I tripped over a few dark things, but didn’t fall until I got to a dead tree stump, hurting my foot. It was a dark thing, and I had no idea it would be so big. Laying face-first in the dirt wasn’t fun, but neither was my sore foot. I made a mental note. The next time I thought I’d be kidnapped, I was wearing sneakers.

  I pulled myself up and, ignoring my sore foot, ran to the trees that stood between the kidnapper’s house and the big light, hoping it was some building with either people or a phone. I took a step and saw something lying on the ground. It wasn’t dark, but was white and large. I approached it carefully, not sure what it might be. A big stick lay beside the object so I grabbed it, just in case.

  I knelt down beside it, and with the stick in my hand, lifted it up so I could see what it was. There, in front of me, was the very pale face of Natasha Yuropov, Boris’ wife, dressed purely in white. I’d met her a few times at past parties, and would know that face and bouffant anywhere. I guessed Boris’ comment about her communing with nature was true—face first into it. Her big mouth got her in trouble, as I recalled Mr. Wing saying, so both of them knew she was here. She must’ve heard about the bombs. From the bugs that I vaguely saw crawling on her face, she’d been there for at least a few days.

  I dropped the stick and stood up, wondering if anyone other than the killer knew she was here. I also knew these guys played for blood, and they certainly weren’t going to get any of mine—unless they took my stash from the trashcan. Who would’ve guessed feminine protection would play a role in world peace? How weird was that? If I ever wrote my life story, no one would believe it, other than Jim, his coworkers, and the bad guys.

  I continued on my journey, hiding behind as many trees as I could while making my way toward the light, which was at the front of a huge building. Right as I got to the last tree, a car pulled up to the building in front of me and someone got out. I crouched low, just watching them.

  The front of the building was illuminated by one power source, and from the red color of the light, it looked like it was from a soda machine. The man who’d gotten out of the car bought a soda with the clink of a few coins, and I could see Oleg’s face in the light from the machine as he turned around. He was laughing and speaking in Russian to the driver, saying something about ‘glad that shift is over’ or something like that. I didn’t hear all the words, but was more worried that the sound of my terrified heart pounding in my chest would give me away.

  They sat in the building’s parking lot for a while until a limousine pulled up beside it. They were all speaking Russian, and I heard Boris’ voice greet them.

  “Is she still alive?” Boris asked.

  “Yeah,” Oleg said. “She might be beautiful, but she’s even prettier when she’s asleep. If I’d been alone with her, I’d wake her and make her appreciate a real man.”

  A real man didn’t rape women or kidnap them. He was nothing but a bully.

  “But did Georgi have to hit her?” Boris asked. “We still need her for the big bomb.”

  Big bomb? Did he say big bomb? None of those seven places was for big bombs, and I knew it. That must be what they wanted to talk about later, after they had everything in place.

  “She was getting on his nerves and he couldn’t handle sitting in a car for hours with her babbling.”

  “She’s paid to babble,” Boris said. “He’s an idiot. I should’ve killed him when I found him in bed before. If Harley can’t orally interpret the directions for the nuclear bomb headed to the White House on Friday at noon from a submarine in the Atlantic, the whole mission will go down and we’ll all be killed. Doesn’t he understand this?”

  Nuclear bomb headed to the White House? Now I had a new mission. If that happened, the United States as I knew it would be nothing. Anyone could walk right in, because there would be no leader. Maybe that’s what Pablo had figured out?

  “I don’t think any of us really understand,” Oleg said. Yeah, because they were all stupid people, being guards to an even stupider person. “Why do you have to bomb this country again?”

  “Beca
use we want to invade and take over the Americas.” So Pablo was justified in being scared. “I have direction from our director of defense to make it look like the Chinese are doing it. We even stole one of their cars to do some other dirty work, and they’re in big trouble over it. They’re the perfect fall guys for this. We’re going to act like we’re helping the U.S. in their hour of need, while we’re really going to be behind the scenes sabotaging nuclear power plants and taking over. After that, the Chinese will be our biggest problem, so we’re working with the Arabic nations to get rid of them. We even forced Sami to give us the Chinese nuclear codes for leverage. We would’ve used Ali, but he tried to sell the information to the Chinese. We killed him just in time.”

  The DHS, the FBI, and every other agency would do anything for this information…including Jim. This was big—no, this was huge. I missed Jim and really needed his help. Would he be so stupid to get himself killed? Yeah, he was a man, and so was Sami. They’d fight to the death, with Sami trying to avenge Elizabeth’s untimely demise by killing anyone in his way. Women wouldn’t do that, I was sure. They’d talk about it over coffee, then hunt for a replacement man, probably doing better for themselves in the meantime. As much as I didn’t like dealing with most women and their snotty pettiness, there was something to be said for their overall hatred of violence, at least for most of them.

  I went back to thinking about Jim. When the Russians threatened something, they always came through with their intentions. Jim was a liability to them. So was I, when I thought about it. As soon as their oral translations were done, I was sure I’d be dead.

  Boris and Oleg laughed about their evil plan and finally said goodbye. Boris’ car pulled around and drove toward the kidnapping house, while Oleg’s car left in the opposite direction. I knew I had to get back to the house fast, because if they couldn’t find me, Brian would pay. I also had to alert someone to where we were, or we’d both be dead.

  I headed toward the back of the dark building sitting behind the soda machine, able to read the sign on the side as I ran closer. It was a country store named McJenson’s, advertising homemade candles and root beer on the windows closest to me.

  As soon as I got to the back, I checked the only door, but it was locked. No one seemed to be inside. I was doomed and had made a huge mistake. Brian would be killed because I’d chosen to go the wrong way when I got out of the basement window. Now what?

  Chapter 37

  I heard a front door slam in the direction of the kidnapping house. “She’s missing!”

  I inched toward the edge of the building and glanced back at the house. Someone was running from the illuminated front porch and took off down the stairs. The person headed down the side of the kidnapping house closest to me, running toward two small lights in the darkness at the back, probably the ends of lit cigarettes. So the smoking guards around the other side had begun their pacing around the back. I really wanted one of those cigarettes, but that would have to wait. I couldn’t let myself be found.

  This wasn’t good. They knew I was gone. My sore brain worked overtime, and I considered going back to the house to save Brian, but then who would know where we were to save us? I had to help both of us, somehow.

  I crouched down and ran to what I thought was the eastern edge of the store, the wall farthest away from the kidnapper’s hideout, checking to see if someone was there. The coast was clear, so I slipped around the corner, walking along the far eastern side of the building. My heart was beating so fast out of terror. I glanced around me, just to see if I’d been followed, but no one was behind me.

  As I turned to figure out my next idea for my escape plan, I saw a phone on the outside brick wall, slightly illuminated. This really was an old country store. No one had public phones anymore.

  I picked up the receiver, and having no money in my pocket, pressed zero.

  “Operator,” the woman said. “Please insert twenty-five cents.”

  “Look. I’ve been kidnapped by the Russian diplomats to the United Nations and I need to speak to a member of the Department of Homeland Security or the police. This is an emergency.”

  “If it’s an emergency, dial 9-1-1 after inserting a quarter.”

  “Ma’am. I don’t have any money. I thought it was free to call emergency.”

  “Only from some pay phones, but this one costs money. I need to have fifty cents deposited now.”

  “But you said only twenty-five cents.”

  “It’s a dollar now. I changed my mind. Get it? Changed my mind?” As she cackled, I was ready to throw the receiver against the brick building.

  “Look, lady. I’ve been kidnapped and have a concussion. I have to talk to someone. Can you reverse the charges?” I kept my voice as low as I could, hoping no one would hear me.

  “Sorry. I can’t do that. You have to insert a dollar fifty, but you’ll get it back.”

  What was up with this woman? I was sure they had to take emergency calls free.

  “But I’m with Brian Karlson, Barry Karlson’s son,” I argued. “He’s been kidnapped too.”

  “The famous billionaire on Wall Street?” So she knew that name. It always came down to money, and if you had it, you were worthy of being saved when kidnapped. Good to know.

  “One and the same,” I said. “I’m trying to save us. The Russians are after us and just found out that I’m missing. Help us, please?”

  “Do you know where you are?” she asked.

  “I have no idea, but I heard one of the guards say we were hours away from New York City.”

  “Stay on the line.”

  Thank heavens. I was glad Brian had been with me, or the lady may not get me help. Yep. Money talked.

  The man’s voice on the line was deep and burley. I hoped he had a gun and could help me, even if it was just over the phone. “This is Officer Chad Albertson. How can I help you?”

  “My name is Harley Black. I’m with Brian Karlson, Barry Karlson’s son—”

  “Are you demanding ransom? How much money do you want? He’ll pay anything.”

  Were these people stupid? I didn’t have a lot of time, and they kept interrupting. “No. Listen carefully. The Russians kidnapped both of us from the United Nations, and they know I’ve escaped. We need help. Contact Kent Johnson at the United Nations, or contact the Department of Homeland Security. They’ll all know what to do. I don’t know where I am, but I’m hours away from New York City, out in the country somewhere, beside a store called McJenson’s. The kidnapping house is next door. We need help, now.”

  His voice turned leery. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  I swear Chad was a dolt. I’d never name my kid after this man, if I ever got married and had kids—or lived through this current crisis.

  I thought back. “Let’s see. Brian was telling me he was taken from his part-time job at the U.N. as a guard over spring break. He’s graduating from college, where his major is pre-med and told me I had a concussion. Does any of that ring a bell?”

  “Probably. Hold on for a minute.”

  “I don’t have a lot of time. They’re going to find me.” Unbelievable. How stupid could this guy be?

  “I know where you are, so relax. We also have a locator on this phone.” The phone clicked over and some stupid muzak began to play. It was a song I knew. I found myself humming along, thinking about the words of love, sunshine, and the clouds in the sky, just to keep myself sane. I suddenly realized that I shouldn’t be making any more noise, in case they were hunting for me in this area.

  I inched up closer to the side of the building, hoping to stay hidden, but with the light from the phone, it was almost impossible. At least I was at the side of the building farthest away from the kidnapping house and the only other light for the building was from the soda machine in the front.

  “Harley?” someone asked over the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Kent. Where are you?”

  “I’m not sure, but
I’ve been kidnapped. I’m calling from a pay phone at a country store named McJenson’s, and it’s beside the kidnapping house. The Russians are planning to bomb the U.S. and it’s going to be nasty. They have Chinese gangs ready to do the dirty work at various shopping malls on Wednesday at noon, and a nuclear bomb is headed for the White House on Friday at noon, from a submarine in the Atlantic.”

  “We need to find you. Are you alone?”

  “No. Brian Karlson is in the house I just escaped from.”

  “The Brian Karlson? Barry’s son?”

  “Yes, and I’m afraid for his life,” I said in almost a whisper. “They know I’m missing, and he helped me escape because I could fit through the small window in the basement. I also found the body of Boris’ wife.”

  “Natasha’s dead?”

  “Yes. She’s in the woods, dressed in all white with bugs covering her face.”

  I knew he was grimacing. “We’ll get there, I promise.”

  “Kent, they were going to kill Jim. Is he okay?”

  “He’s—”

  The phone went dead. I hit it against the brick wall, but nothing—not even a dial tone. I guessed the phone company only gave me a few free minutes. No one ever got anything free anymore.

  I heard a loud, terrorized scream, sounding like Brian’s voice. I had to get back to the house to save him, but needed a weapon.

  I searched all around the eastern side of the country store, hoping I wouldn’t see anyone. A pile of trash lay a few dozen yards from where I was standing, looking like someone had done construction work and threw the unused stuff on a pile. I ran to the far side of it and crouched down, hoping I could find something to use for at least a distraction from Brian. With my sore head, it was the best I could do. I had to save him.

  In the small amount of moonlight, I saw a huge two by four, about the length of a bat, sticking out of the pile. I pulled on it, but it was stuck. I rocked it back and forth, yanking with all my might, trying not to get a splinter or break a fingernail. It finally pulled free, knocking me to the ground in the meantime.

  I looked to my left, and lying beside me was a huge axe. Tough decision. I weighed my options and decided that the two-by-four was bigger and heavier, so it would do more damage than an axe that might be dull. I picked up the two-by-four, hoping I’d made the right decision.