No Return

by Nolon King

  Jasper closed the door and ran away from her house, into the darkness. He had another visit to make. Though he had absolutely no intention of honoring his passenger’s request.

  One way or another, the lawyer would talk.

  Chapter 19 - Paul Dodd

  Paul woke up, looked around at what appeared to an opulent hotel suite, and wondered if he was dreaming. The sunken living room was large, almost obscenely so, and the fixtures — though clearly uniform — were dark and polished and new.

  His prison jumpsuit had been replaced with blue silk pajamas.

  The last thing he remembered was following a man out of the van. Everything went black after that. Had he been drugged? Knocked out? Paul wasn’t sure, but he sat up feeling dizzy and had to wait a moment before daring to stand.

  Where the hell am I?

  Who are these people?

  Why would they take me?

  He waited, the irony of his abduction not lost, until the door finally opened. He flinched, half expecting some maniac to charge him with a machete. Instead, Paul was greeted by a thin, dark-skinned young man dressed in a fine white suit. He looked like he had escaped a Calvin Klein ad.

  “Hello, Mr. Dodd.” His accent was thick, Spanish perhaps. He stood at the doorway, holding a tray with a covered plate and a glass of ice water. “Your dinner is served.”

  Paul who made space on the bed for the tray. It was silver with looping ivy engraved around the perimeter. He was suspicious, but the smell of meat and whatever else was under the covered plate set his stomach to grumbling.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in Paraíso. My name is Daniel, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Anything you need, don’t hesitate to dial.”

  He eyed the phone on the nightstand and wondered if he could use it to call out. But who would care that he’d been taken? Paul was an escaped prisoner, and this place was obviously better than whatever jail he was on his way to.

  Daniel lifted the cover.

  It had been so long since Paul had eaten anything other than the prison pablum. The sight of a perfectly seared filet, dollop of garlic mash, and what looked like lightly battered and fried asparagus overrode any trepidation he had over who had accosted him.

  He unwrapped his fork and knife from the cloth napkin then shoveled food into his mouth like a shipwreck survivor.

  The food was heavenly, worth five and a half stars. It obviously wasn’t cheap. If someone had kidnapped Paul, he was curious as to who they were and why the hell they had gone to so much trouble.

  It had to be the lawyer. Wes’s money. Somehow this was all tied to him.

  But how?

  “What is Paraíso?” Paul asked through a mouthful of steak. “A resort, or what?”

  “It’s a discreet destination for men with particular tastes, tailored to their needs.” And then Daniel left, heading back outside to a cart in the hallway before returning with a bottle of wine and a glass.

  “Château Haut-Bailly Pessac-Léognan. If this is not to your liking, we have an extensive collection to choose from.” Daniel uncorked the bottle and poured wine into a goblet.

  “This’ll be fine.” Paul took a sip. He wasn’t much of a wine guy, but it went down easily. “So, Daniel, why am I here … in Paraíso?”

  “After you’re finished with your meal, you can use the shower to freshen up. You’ll find a change of clothing in the closet. Get dressed, ring me, and I’ll bring you to Madam. She will answer your questions.”

  “Okay.” Because what else could he say?

  “Will there be anything else?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Daniel left, closing the door softly behind him and locking it.

  Even in Paraíso, Paul was no less a prisoner.

  He finished his meal, the wine, and the glass of water. No longer dizzy, he went to the bathroom. It had a whirlpool tub and a separate shower, with a handful of shower heads and an orgy’s worth of room.

  It had been forever since he’d had a nice, warm bath, so Paul filled the tub, and even added some bubbles. He undressed, slid into the almost-scalding water, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to shut out the rest of the world and its problems, even if only for a while.

  He wasn’t sure what the rest of the resort was like, but the tub delivered on its promise.

  After his relaxing bath, Paul found clothes in the closet. He had several pairs of pants and shirts to choose from, all in his size. He got dressed, called Daniel, then found the man standing at the door three minutes later.

  “Are you ready to meet her?”

  “Yes.”

  Daniel led him out of his room and into a long hall with rich crimson carpet, loud art hanging on softly colored walls or painted directly on them, including a stunning display of trompe l'œil.

  Paul counted four doors on either side of the hallway on their way to the elevator. “These other rooms, are they also prisoners?”

  “You’re not a prisoner. But to answer your question, this is our most private wing, for guests such as yourself whom require extra discretion.

  Paul heard the giggling of young-sounding women as they passed one of the rooms. He wanted to stop and eavesdrop at the door but resisted the urge.

  They reached the elevator. Daniel slid a card over a scanner, then it slid open.

  It was spacious inside, mirrored. A camera looked down from the corner.

  Paul’s eyes fell to the floor.

  The elevator dinged open to a dark club with thumping electronica, colorful lights flickering to the beat, and a DJ high in the center of it all, looking like something out of mid-90s MTV.

  Paul followed Daniel, his vision bewildered by the staccato bursts of light. It was sensory overload, people dancing in the strobing dark, half-naked women and men gyrating on the dance floor, people making out in booths that would’ve put any strip club’s VIP room to shame.

  A topless waitress in a glowing blue-and-pink necklace with teeth that shined white in the black light, approached Paul with a tray of vials of red and yellow drinks.

  “Shot?” she asked in a Russian accent.

  He considered it but didn’t want his senses dulled while meeting Madam. “No, thank you.” Paul pushed his way past her, but not before getting one last look at her perfectly perky breasts. Then he lost Daniel. Stopping to look for his guide, Paul saw something that set his heart to pounding — an old Asian man sitting in a booth with two pre-pubescent girls in tiny bikinis and plenty of makeup.

  One of the girls was giggling, snorting cocaine off the table. The other girl climbed onto his lap.

  This place is Paradise!

  Daniel found him, though Paul no longer wanted to follow him. Not when he could sit and watch, maybe even join the party.

  He stared at the girls, aroused. The girl on the old man’s lap looked up at Paul and smiled coyly. Then she closed her eyes, moaning as the man reached under the table and into her lap.

  The girl doing coke started to kiss the other girl, letting her hand trail down.

  Where the hell did they find young girls so sexual?

  Though Paul was partial to the innocence of girls and hated when they turned into bitches and sluts, he’d never seen anything like this — children so into sex. And unlike most of the child porn he’d seen, these girls didn’t look dead inside or have that glassy-eyed expression. They were into it and happy.

  Daniel said, “Ah, I see you’ve found something that piques your interest?”

  “You could say that.”

  “We can have a video catalog sent to your room after you meet with Madam. While I believe these particular ladies are busy for the next few days, we have several others to choose from. And if we don’t have what you like, we can get it.”

  “Several others? How?”

  “As I said, Mr. Dodd, in Paraíso, we exist to please.”

  Paul managed to break his attention from the girls and the old man then follow Daniel, his eyes scanning
every pocket of darkness for more salacious activities. He found plenty of making out and even some fucking, though mostly by adults, or close enough. He spotted one other child, but this time it was a boy and two men on either side of him, watching the kid eat ice cream. One of them was jerking off as the boy ate, which disturbed Paul, mostly because he didn’t like boys. In fact, he felt a pang of sympathy for the child, hoping he wouldn’t have to endure anything too rough.

  At a stairwell, they descended to a red door. Two large armed men with severe crew cuts stood outside. The one on the right looked Paul up and down, then nodded them through.

  Daniel opened the door, then Paul walked through to meet the woman with answers.

  “Hello, Mr. Dodd. I am Madam Pandora.” She was a short, thin Spanish woman in a red silk dress. Long jet-black hair hung straight, covering the left side of her face almost entirely. She looked to be in her early forties but could have been a decade younger or older. It was hard to tell in such low light and with half her face buried. In either case, she was classically beautiful, and her smile was warm. But her eyes were cold and dilated with secrets.

  She sat behind a desk flanked by two faux red trees in this small, dark, room. The walls were black, their dark expanse broken by two doors. Paul could practically feel armed men behind them, waiting for the word to strike.

  “Please, have a seat.” She waved a hand at the chair in front of her desk, her voice demure.

  Paul sat and Daniel left, closing the door behind him.

  Madam Pandora sat across from him, bolt upright, hands folded on the desk. She was either the most poised person he’d ever met or an obsessive control freak.

  “Welcome to Paraíso. I’m assuming you have questions.”

  “Um, yeah. Where am I? Why am I here? And what is this place?”

  “All excellent questions. You are in Paraíso, a resort for a very select clientele. We’re in El Barranco, in Mexico, where you can hide from your government. And you are here because you have something we want.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your benefactor, Mr. Wes Richardson, was one of the founding members of our little group. He was also a slightly paranoid man, and being such, he kept a flash drive in a safe deposit box at Banco Montaña BPI. Now that he’s passed, we’d hate for that information to fall into the wrong hands.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “I’m guessing Mr. Richardson thought very highly of you, seeing as he left you that box. We’d like you to recover that flash drive and bring it to us.”

  Paul wanted to know what was on the drive, but he’d already seen enough to know better than to ask a question which might put his life in danger. These were powerful people with a criminal empire to uphold. No reason to piss them off with an idiot’s questions.

  “And how do I do that? Just walk in the bank and get it? I’m a fugitive.”

  “That’s in the States, Mr. Dodd. So long as we act quickly, I don’t anticipate any issues. Mr. Richardson left you a key. They’re going to want to match your thumbprint to what they have on file.”

  “And how do they have my thumbprint on file?”

  “You’d have to ask Mr. Richardson.”

  “After I give you this flash drive, what then? Are you sending me back?”

  “Oh, heavens no,” Madam said with a polite laugh. “After that, you are free to live out your days wherever you want. We would be eternally grateful if you could do us this one favor, enough that we’ve procured your first gift in advance.”

  “What’s that?” Paul shifted in his seat, thinking of the Nazi, imagining one of the doors opening to some thug who might come to beat him into compliance.

  Instead, Madam Pandora reached into her desk, pulled out an iPad, and slid her fingers across the glass surface, navigating a screen that Paul couldn’t see. Then she handed him the tablet.

  “I trust you’re pleased?”

  He looked down at the screen and saw the impossible — Jessi Price in a room like his.

  “She’s here, Mr. Dodd. Our gift to you.”

  Friday, August 30

  Chapter 20 - Jasper Parish

  Jasper sat in front of a convenience store drinking a Coke in his rental while surveying Kampf’s two-story beachfront home across the road and just down the street, waiting to see if anyone would leave.

  “Maybe his wife isn’t home,” Jordyn suggested from the passenger seat.

  “Maybe, but I’m not taking chances. I’d prefer not to hurt any innocents.”

  “So, what do we do, just sit here all day?”

  “It’s not even seven in the morning. Chill.”

  “I’m bored.” She sighed.

  He laughed. “You would make a terrible cop.”

  “What’s the longest stakeout you ever had to stay on?”

  “Once we got a tip that this dealer was holed up in this apartment, but we couldn’t grab him until he left.”

  “Why?”

  “We didn’t want to arrest him. We wanted to flip him to get to his boss. So we sat there for almost fourteen hours, and he didn’t so much as open a curtain, let alone leave.”

  “What did you do in situations like that, like if you had to pee or … worse?”

  Jasper shook his fountain drink.

  “Oh, that is soooo gross. You did that with your partner in the car?”

  “When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go.”

  Jordyn wrinkled her face in disgust, then her eyes widened. “I’ve got an idea! I’m gonna look on her LiveLyfe page. See if she mentioned any plans for the day.”

  “Good idea. See, you’re not completely useless.”

  Jordyn rolled her eyes, then flipped down the screen, saw something of interest, and handed her phone to Jasper. He saw a photo of Lawrence’s wife, Kathleen, posing with drinks, sitting beside another woman in a restaurant. She pointed. “See the location?”

  “New York.”

  “Yep,” Jordyn said. “She’s out of town.”

  “Then I’m going in. You’re waiting down the street.”

  “Oh, come on. Can’t I come this time?”

  “No, and don’t ask again.”

  Jordyn sighed as Jasper drove to a spot a few houses down. He jogged along the beach behind the lawyer’s neighbors, then looked both ways to see if anyone was paying attention before pulling a mask over his face and vaulting the white fence.

  He was in the backyard with a fenced-in patio and well-maintained plants and shrubs. The home’s entire rear was windowed, none of the curtains or shades drawn. If Lawrence happened to look out, he’d spot Jasper immediately.

  He hoped the fat fucker was still in bed.

  The patio door was unlocked. Jasper let himself inside, hoping his luck wouldn’t fade.

  The first of two sliding glass doors, one looking into the living room, was locked. He went to the one off the kitchen — Lawrence was sitting at the bar eating breakfast while watching TV.

  Jasper ducked, hoping the guy didn’t spot him. The last thing he wanted to do was give the guy time to find his gun, assuming he had one. A safe assumption, given his station.

  He didn’t wait long to peek again. The man was gone from his spot.

  Shit!

  He tried the sliding glass door, relieved when he found it unlocked.

  Jasper slid it slowly on the track. The heavy door moved silently enough. He entered the dining area and saw that the lawyer’s plate was still half-filled with eggs and bacon, his orange juice still three quarters full.

  Had Lawrence gone to the bathroom or to get his gun?

  Jasper retrieved his blade and moved fast through the bottom floor until he found himself at the foot of the stairs, listening.

  “Don’t come any closer!” Lawrence yelled from behind a closed door upstairs. “The police are on their way!”

  Fuck!

  He didn’t have long. Beachfront addresses got top priority. “I just have a few questions, Mr. Kampf.”
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  “Leave now. I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Too late, son. Trouble is coming your way if you don’t answer my questions.”

  He ran up the stairs making as little noise as possible, then arrived at Lawrence’s room. If the man was holding a gun, there was an excellent chance he’d shoot through the door if he heard anything.

  Jasper stayed quiet, waiting for Lawrence to make the next move, hoping like hell that the sheriff’s office wasn’t moving in. In a house like this, they might roll in silent, not wanting to spook the invader — meaning that Jasper would be trapped if he didn’t get out in time.

  What would Jordyn do if he got arrested and never came back? He didn’t want her growing up without a father.

  Jasper closed his eyes and touched the door, trying to get a flash of something. He’d never understood his psychic gifts or why they failed to work more often than not. Nor did he understand why Jordyn had been getting more visions than him. Was it that he’d neglected his powers, cursed them for so long after his wife died that they just stopped coming?

  Whatever the case, he needed something now.

  Come on. Just lemme know how long I have before the deputies are barging in.

  Something! Anything!

  Jasper didn’t get a vision, so much as a flash of something he’d barely noticed while running past the kitchen — a cell phone next to the stove.

  And then he sensed Lawrence’s panic on the other side of the door. He’d run upstairs before getting the phone. And whatever room he was in now didn’t have one.

  Jasper closed his eyes, pressing his hand harder against the door.

  He got a sense of Lawrence on the other side, pistol shaking in his hand. Heart racing.

  Jasper eased into the hallway, ducked, then said, “You ever shoot a man, Mr. Kampf?”

  “I will shoot you! I swear to Christ.”

  “I don’t think you will. And by the way, I’ve got your phone. So unless you have one in there, and we both know you don’t, nobody’s coming to save you.”

  “You come in here, and I will shoot your fucking ass!”

  “Oh, I believe you will shoot. But here’s the thing, Mr. Kampf, I’ve got a knife. And I know the old saying about bringing a knife to a gunfight, but I guarantee that after you miss your first two or three shots, I will be on you, my blade buried in your stomach in seconds. And you will bleed out, my friend. Or … we could talk.”