“My old precinct in South Chicago pulled a stunt a couple of years ago. Had a tip from a reliable snitch a woman was trying to find a hit man to kill her hubby. We set up a sting, then informed the hubby of his old lady’s plan and took him into protective custody. Had a makeup artist make him up to look like a bloody corpse.
“Then we called her into the station to give her some bad news. We said her husband was murdered by unknown assailants. Asked if she could identify him from crime scene photos.
“After she did, we had the husband pop his head into the interrogation room and say, ‘Surprise!’
“The woman lost her mind. Screamed and cried and said it was all a mistake and she was joking and the guy she paid two thousand dollars went too far and all that crap.
“Showing somebody the body of someone close to them makes people lose their frickin’ minds. It might work in this case.”
Copaus nodded and smiled.
“Yeah. It might work. But neither of them will sit still and let us put makeup on them.”
“They don’t have to. That’s what we have pharmaceuticals for. One shot and they’ll be out for hours. We can make them up, take their photos, then let them lie in their own urine until they eventually wake up and wonder why they look like they stepped out of a zombie movie.”
“Which would you make the victim?”
“Hell, we could do both of ‘em. If one didn’t crack maybe the other would.”
“Anything else?”
“Don’t we have the young guy’s wife stashed somewhere?”
“Yes. Outside of St. Louis. Why?”
“Let’s have them set up a video camera on her. Tell her she’s going to be executed in twenty four hours unless we get Gwen. Have her plead with her husband to give Gwen up. If he loves her he’ll play ball.”
Another man added, “Didn’t I hear the wife’s pregnant?”
Copaus shook his head and said, “Not anymore.”
He didn’t elaborate and the room fell momentarily silent.
Copaus himself broke the silence when he said, “I like that idea. Carson strikes me as the kind of man who might give in under those circumstances. Everything in his dossier indicates he’s a devoted husband who pretty much worships his wife.
“Let’s see if he loves her enough to trade Gwen’s life for Hannah’s.
“Unless anyone else has an idea I’ll like better.”
No one had anything else to add. It was obvious the boss had made his decision.
And they’d all seen him blow his top when he had his mind made up about something and someone tried to talk him out of it or change his mind.
“Okay,” he concluded. “It’s a go. I’ll make the necessary phone call.
“It might take a couple of days, though, to get the video made and get it here.
“In the meantime, let’s separate the two. Hell, might as well knock the old guy out and make him up to be a corpse. We can use that idea as a backup plan.”
“O’Reilly, you and Green play good cop/bad cop. Work the boy first. Use everything at your disposal. Deprive him of food and water. Put him next to a noisy neighbor. Leave his lights on all night so he can’t sleep.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Let’s go all out on this guy. If we can’t crack him before the video gets here, we’ll at least soften him up. Hopefully by the time he hears his wife’s pleas he’ll be a quivering bowl of jelly.
“Anybody got anything else?”
Nothing.
“Good. Let’s make it happen. Oh, and O’Reilly?”
“Yes sir?”
“Don’t call the kid Tony. Call him Anthony. His dossier says he hates that. It gets him riled up.”
“Got it.”
Chapter 31
While Tony and Bud cooled their heels in the cell, passing the time by talking about anything and everything, the brain trust outside their cell were having their own conversations.
Their conversations, however, were decidedly more sinister in nature.
They talked of their options. They talked of death, of disposing of bodies, of staged “accidents,” of drugs which simulated heart attacks and which were untraceable at an autopsy.
They also talked of various methods of torture. Which ones were effective in a particular situation.
Which ones weren’t.
Word came down that Copaus was having some kind of video made to help their case, and that in the meantime their prisoners were to be separated.
So they developed a plan.
It was a variation of the old “divide and conquer” technique police detectives have used for generations.
The thinking is that crooks are only loyal to each other until they think one of them has sold the others out.
Then they can’t wait to sing like canaries.
It was a tried and true trick of the police trade and had landed many men in prison for very long sentences.
In this case it would be more subtle.
They seemed to sense that Tony and Bud, though having not known one another for long, had nonetheless developed a close bond.
Barging in and accusing one of betraying the other likely wouldn’t work.
They understood how the human mind worked. Especially when under great stress.
They had staff psychologists who could accurately predict how a typical human would respond, given a specific set of circumstances and stressors.
They decided to plant a mere seed into Tony’s brain and to separate him from Bud.
Then they’d let Tony’s fears and insecurities do their dirty work for them.
When they came for Tony they brought food with them.
It was real food. Not unlike the pond scum they’d been served since their arrival.
This looked and smelled like mom’s home cooking. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, and sliced fresh strawberries.
When the door opened and they saw what was in the guard’s hands, both men stood up from their bunks. They caught a whiff of it at the same time. Their mouths started to water.
They thought their luck was changing.
There was one slight problem, though.
They only had one tray.
The guard, who happened to be Michael O’Reilly, ignored Tony completely and greeted Bud as he would an old friend.
Even though they’d never laid eyes upon each other.
“Here you go, Mr. Avery. Just wanted to show you our appreciation and to let you know there’s no hard feelings.”
Bud dutifully took the tray, not knowing what else to say or do.
As soon as the tray was out of his own hands, O’Reilly took a cell phone from his pocket and placed it into an empty compartment on the food tray.
He made certain he positioned his body in such a manner to allow Tony to see the phone.
Yet he didn’t mention it at all.
Under other circumstances Bud would have figured out quickly what was going on. But they’d timed the show perfectly. Just after a hidden camera outside the cell told them Bud had finally drifted off to sleep after tossing and turning for two hours.
He still wasn’t quite awake when O’Reilly and two others burst in with the tray.
Bud’s mind was still foggy as he stood there with the tray, thinking that certainly someone else would walk in with a similar tray for Tony.
So he said nothing.
Instead of a tray and cell phone of his very own, though, one of the other men swung hard at Tony, catching him off guard and knocking him cold.
It was only then, as the two thugs were dragging Tony’s unconscious body from the cell, that Bud realized he’d been had.
He threw the tray of food at O’Reilly and cursed him.
“You son of a bitch! It won’t work! He’ll never buy it!”
“Careful. You touch me and I’ll kill you with my bare hands. And if you’re tougher than you look, my friends here will be happy to drop Tony square on his face and help me.
“If I were you I’d back off.”
Bud backed off. Going against three young and able men would only make matters worse.
He cursed himself.
Sleepy or not, he should have seen instantly what was going on and told Tony it was a ruse while he had the chance.
Before they’d knocked him out.
The thugs dragged Tony into the hallway. O’Reilly followed them out and slammed the cell door behind him.
As they walked down the hall, Bud continued to shout, “It won’t work. He won’t believe you!”
But in the hallway, on the other side of the soundproofed walls, his cries were but whispers.
On the far end of the corridor, Tony was dumped unceremoniously in the center of his new cell.
He’d be out for hours.
And when he came to he’d have a throbbing headache. He’d be dazed and confused.
He’d wonder about the single plate of real food they gave to Bud… and the cell phone.
And he’d wonder for a very long time what they meant when they said they wanted to show Bud their appreciation.
Their appreciation for what, exactly?
Chapter 32
The government’s new strategy to find and silence Gwen was to turn her friends against her. To play them against one another.
But for their evil plan to work they had to have the other players’ cooperation.
And that was no guarantee.
Hannah was still all alone, still naked and afraid, still agonizing over the birth of her child and where he or she might be.
And still incredibly vulnerable, both to intimidation and to persuasion.
Her captors may have considered her the weak link in their quest to find Gwen Lupson.
But then again, they didn’t know Hannah.
They’d been asking her, over and over again, to give up her friend.
They’d told her outright that doing so would bring her comforts. A pillow to lie on, blankets to warm her.
Her own clothing to wear.
When that didn’t work they offered her word from her husband, via live video feed. They could converse in real time, she was told.
When Hannah rebuffed their efforts, they started promising more.
“We can bring Tony to you. He can join you in your cell.”
“No. I will not give up my friend. I’ve seen what you’ve done to other people. I will not offer up my friend as a sacrificial lamb so you can assassinate her as well.”
“But your friend is a traitor. She is an enemy of the State.”
“That’s not true and you know it. Gwen is guilty only of doing her job, and doing it well. There is only one enemy of the State and I’m talking to him. Get out of my face and go to hell.”
“If you tell us where she is we’ll set you free.”
“Yeah, right. Like I’m going to trust you.”
“We’ve never lied to you yet.”
“How do I know you’ve never lied? You tell me my husband is still alive, but you’ve given me no proof. You tell me my baby was born and is in a hospital, being well cared for. But again, I’ve seen no proof.
“It seems to me you’re big on claims and promises and short on fulfilling those promises and proving those claims.”
“But you can rely on us to keep you safe from Gwen and her gang. You can trust us. We are with the federal government.”
She openly laughed.
“I can’t believe you just told me that I should trust you because you’re with the government. If there was ever a reason for me not to trust you, that would be it.”
“How about if we brought your baby to you?”
She stopped yelling at them.
She stopped crying.
For a moment she had hope.
Then she came back to reality.
“I’m not going to give you my friend. Go to hell.”
She tried to force the two men from her cell, using every one of her ninety five pounds.
She punched them.
They laughed at her.
Finally they left of their own accord, and Hannah went back to sitting on the bare floor of her cell, sulking and sniffling.
This was hard on her. Easily the hardest thing she’d ever had to endure.
And she’d done nothing to deserve it. Neither had Gwen. Neither had Tony.
Neither had her baby.
She wasn’t going to give these animals anything.
The door to her cell opened again as she sat Indian-style.
For the first time, she made no effort to cover up her nakedness.
She’d reached a turning point. She was angry. She was openly defiant. She no longer cared.
She stood and faced her captors, unclothed and unashamed. She dared them to speak to her.
It was her way of telling them she was no longer cowed. She was no longer afraid.
She was daring them to do battle with her.
Instead they merely placed a tray of food on the floor, just inside the doorway, and closed the door again.
Next to the tray they placed a rather odd device.
Her eyes temporarily blinded by the glare of the bright light from the open door, she couldn’t make out what else they’d placed on the floor.
It could be a bomb.
But no. They’d been too carefree about placing it there. They gave no indication it might be dangerous.
She reached out for it and examined it with her fingers. She tried to determine, in the darkness of her cell, what it was.
Then she found what appeared to be a switch.
She put it back down.
For several minutes she debated in her mind whether to flip that switch.
Perhaps it was a bomb after all.
Perhaps they wanted her to end her own life. To keep her blood from getting on their own hands.
Perhaps it was an electrical device, meant to stun her so she’d be less of a thorn in their side.
Perhaps it was a canister which, its switch activated, would release a deadly or incapacitating gas.
In the end she decided it was worth the risk. Otherwise the wondering would drive her crazy.
And besides, a speedy death wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. She was convinced beyond all doubt they were going to kill her eventually anyway.
She picked the item back up, drew a breath and held it, then flipped the switch.
It was… an area light.
Chapter 33
Fascinated, she examined it more closely.
It was similar to a flashlight, but with a base which allowed it to stand upright.
It was small but very powerful. For the first time she could see every inch of her cell.
For the first time she could see the infrared cameras mounted in each back corner of the cell, high on the ceiling.
For the first time she realized she’d been monitored from the beginning by video feed.
Everything she’d done, every scream she’d screamed, every tear she’d shed.
There was something else too.
For the very first time, she could actually see her food. She didn’t have to feel her way through the tray, trying to sense by touch alone what disgusting things they’d brought her.
She examined the tray and its contents.
They were messing with her mind, although she couldn’t figure out why or where they thought it would get them.
This time, also for the first time since her arrival, the food appeared to be… edible.
There in front of her was a small ribeye steak cooked medium rare, just the way she liked it.
But how did they know? How could they possibly have known how she preferred her steak? How could they possibly know she liked shredded cheddar cheese on her baked potato? That she loved spring peas?
She picked up a carton of milk and examined it.
She’d assumed it was warm. After all, all they’d given her to drink until this point was warm water.
But the carton was co
ld.
And it was still sealed and apparently untampered with.
She opened it and took a swallow, then decided she’d never tasted anything better in her whole life.
She turned her attention back to the food tray, picking up a cloth napkin. Inside the napkin were a steak knife and a fork.
The knife was sharp enough to thrust into her heart if she’d wanted to.
Was that their new strategy? To provide her a last meal in the hopes she’d kill herself and save them the trouble of doing it?
No, that made no sense. They’d showed no qualms or remorse about killing others.
Perhaps they’d made the shift from “bad cop” to “good cop.”
Maybe they’d decided that since coercion wasn’t working they’d try to be friendly to her. To butter her up a bit. To try to convince her they were her friends.
Her true friends. And that Gwen had been playing her all along.
Ha! Fat chance of that. They’d never convince her.
She was famished after casting aside most of the rubbish they’d fed her thus far.
And it suddenly occurred to her they might be teasing her.
They might be offering her a good meal at last, only to open the door and snatch it away again when she prepared to take the first bite.
Maybe they weren’t finally being civil at all. Maybe they were just searching for new ways to mess with her mind.
She took a bite of steak and savored it. It was like heaven on earth. Or maybe it was just mediocre and it just tasted good because it had been so long since she’d had anything worth eating.
Whatever the case, it didn’t matter.
She didn’t taste anything in the food that might indicate it was tainted.
But then again, surely the federal government of the United States would have poisons which were undetectable.
Of course, if they’d wanted to kill her they’d have done so by now.
She looked around the cell, looking for somewhere to hide the knife.
If she had any hope of escaping, she’d need some type of weapon, for she wouldn’t stand a chance trying to use her brute strength against the men holding her.
There was only one place in the bare cell where a knife could be hidden.
The afterbirth… the remnants of the birth of her son or daughter, were still there in the corner, although dried out and shrunken now. They were covered by flies and smelling of decomposition.
The Yellowstone Event (Book 2): A National Disgrace Page 11
