When Doubt Creeps In: A Harry Bronson Suspense Thriller

by L C Hayden

  “People who attend this event aren’t your everyday thieves. Lots of precautions are taken. In all of these years, there’s never been a single report of damage to a car or report of a stolen one.”

  A ghost of a smile touched Andrew’s mouth. “Remember how you and your gang used to attend this convention so you all could drive those Porsches and pretend they were yours?”

  A portion of Thomas’s body’s blood supply churned in his cheeks. “Let’s not mention that again, and we weren’t a gang. We were a group of teenagers who hung around together. Most of us didn’t even have our licenses.”

  “And they still let you drive the cars?” Bronson asked.

  Andrew leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Money speaks and so does power. You’re forgetting that Thomas here is the senator’s son.”

  More blood rushed to Thomas’ cheeks. “Enough of that. The main thing is that you, Alex, should find the time to attend this convention. I bet you could find a lot of red Porsches. That seems to be everyone’s favorite.”

  “But not yours?”

  “Not mine. I like mine blue. I’m an individual thinker.”

  Bronson smiled and let that one go. He finished the chicken part of the roulade. All that was left were the vegetables. Not his favorite, especially those he had never seen before.

  Andrew and Thomas further quizzed Bronson about the life of a treasure seeker. When they finished, both seemed satisfied with his answers. Desert arrived—arches of chocolate with tiny pieces of fruits on the top. Hope it tasted as good as it looked.

  Bronson wasn’t disappointed. The meal enticed his senses, but it wasn’t accomplishing what he had set out to do. Bronson decided to take a gamble and confront Thomas about being the man on the top. He was about to speak when Thomas shot to his feet.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have the luxury of time. I’d like to hear more of your stories, Alex, but I’ll be late for my appointment if I don’t leave now. Please feel free to stay and enjoy a cup of coffee. That’s always a relaxing thing to do after a good meal. I wish I had that luxury.” He excused himself and walked away.

  Bronson studied him as he headed out. He walked like a man who was sure of himself. Someone in control. Bronson had yet to make up his mind about Thomas’ position. It was likely he was the leader, but an edge of doubt dwelled in his gut. All Bronson knew was that Thomas would be a hard man to bring down.

  58

  “You seemed to enjoy the food and Thomas’ company.” Andrew leaned back on his chair.

  Bronson waited until the waiters finished removing the plates, swept the crumbs off the tablecloth, set saucers and cups down, and filled them with steaming coffee. Another waiter arrived with all of the coffee fixings and a silver urn. “The food was delicious, and Thomas seems to be a delightful person,” Bronson said once the waiters left.

  Andrew stirred his coffee. “Don’t let him fool you. Looks can be deceiving.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “He’s a smooth talker, and that’s what’s going to make him a great politician one of these days.”

  “Are you sayin’ he’s not sincere?”

  Andrew shrugged. “Sometimes, I wonder.” He poured another Sweet ’n Low into his coffee. “Sometimes I think he’s up to something and that worries me.”

  “Somethin’?” Bronson paused. “Somethin’ that’s goin’ to upset our business deal?”

  Andrew looked away. “Maybe.”

  Bronson leaned forward so he was closer to Andrew. “The other day, I asked you if you were the one who made all final decisions. You said you were, but both you and I know you were lyin’. Is Thomas the one you report to?”

  “I … I …” Andrew cleared his throat. “I didn’t say that. I just meant he’s … a politician. He always knows what to say and when to say it.”

  Bronson poured himself another cup of coffee from the dainty urn. “I like workin’ with you, Andrew. But I also told you that I only work with Number One. This deal is off.” He started to stand.

  Andrew gasped. “Wait!”

  Bronson sat back down.

  “When the deal goes down, when you’re there to board that plane ...” He paused as though considering how to continue. “Thomas will be standing by my side.”

  Bingo! “So he’s—”

  Andrew looked away.

  Bronson made a production out of adding more cream to his coffee and stirring it. “A little while ago when we were on the phone, you mentioned that Mike and Thomas are working on other deals.”

  “I remember.”

  “Is that something I should worry about?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Good to hear.” Bronson pushed his cup of coffee away. “I best be goin’.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Andrew slid his hand inside his suit and opened it slightly. Bronson spotted the gun. “Until the deal goes down, you’re not leaving my sight.”

  “I seriously doubt that you’d want to create a scene here at the restaurant.”

  “You’re absolutely right. I don’t. But do you see those two men sitting at the table next to us?”

  Bronson glanced their way.

  They grinned, an evil-looking curvature of the lips, and then they waved.

  Bronson returned the grin and waved back.

  “Now do you see the men behind us?”

  Bronson looked at them.

  They stared at him.

  He stared back.

  “You won’t make it too far before one of those men grab you, and they like to play rough. Best if you just came with me.”

  Shiiit!

  59

  The chauffeur stood by the limousine’s open door. Three of the four men Andrew had pointed out in the restaurant lined up like good little soldiers and entered the automobile. The fourth one stood behind Bronson, shoving a gun against his ribs.

  “Get in,” Andrew hissed.

  Bronson started to do so.

  “No, wait.”

  Bronson stopped.

  Andrew nodded at the guard and stepped back.

  The thug frisked Bronson and relieved him of his gun and phone. He pocketed them.

  “Now get in,” Andrew indicated the open door.

  Bronson did. The rich, black velvet seats that stretched from one side to the other would have amused Bronson under different circumstances. At one end, a wet bar stood and at the other end, a small refrigerator displayed a see-through door. The television screen at the back of the car was turned off.

  The four men from the restaurant occupied the left-hand side of the limo. Soon as they sat down, they reached for their seatbelts, buckled in, and grabbed their earphones. They placed the piece over their ears. Whatever was going to be discussed, they would not be able to hear. These men were well trained. Bad news for Bronson.

  Bronson sat facing them, his feet firmly grounded on the royal purple carpet. “Why are you doin’ this?” Bronson waited until Andrew lowered his firm body into the rich, comfortable couch-looking car seat next to him.

  “Sorry, my friend, you brought this on yourself.”

  The limo’s tiny, white and purple lights and decorations on the inside of the car’s roof captured Bronson’s attention. “How’s that?”

  “You’re the one who insisted on dealing with Number One. You weren’t satisfied with me. You had to see him.” He buckled up. “You’ve got to understand. Because of who he is, he can’t afford to have you run around loose. You might accidentally open your trap and ruin him. He can’t have that happening. You must remain where we can watch you every second until this deal goes down. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  Bronson’s mind spat one possibility after the other with the speed of a rocket entering Earth’s atmosphere. He had to come up with the right answer so he could get away and notify Pablo. “I have a dog to take care of. She’s waitin’ for me in the hotel room.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sweetheart?”

&n
bsp; Bronson cocked his head and stared at Andrew.

  “The dog’s name. Sweetheart.”

  “Honey.”

  “Oh, yeah. Honey. I knew it was something like that. As we speak, there are men in your room, packing your belongings and taking care of Honey.”

  “Honey would never let them in. If they hurt her—”

  “Relax, will ya? If I were you, I’d be more concerned about me than a stupid dog.”

  “Honey is anythin’ but stupid.” Bronson folded his arms and stared out the window. At least he wasn’t blindfolded. He’d be able to see where they were taking him. That meant that the first chance he’d get, he’d make a run for freedom.

  60

  Bronson knew where they were heading. In less than half-an-hour, they’d be at Andrew’s mansion. Did he have a secret dungeon hidden behind secret walls? The house was more than big enough to conceal one. Or two.

  Andrew nudged him. “Are you still brooding about Honey?”

  “I want her with me.”

  “I don’t like dogs in my house. So, sorry, no, she can’t be with you.”

  “Can you at least tell me where they are goin’ to take her?”

  “Once you come back with the goods, we’ll tell you where you can pick her up.”

  Bronson wasn’t handcuffed, and Andrew sat next to him. Bronson stared at Andrew’s Adam Apple and down at his own hand. He formed a fist and released it. He returned his gaze out the window.

  Twenty-five minutes later, the limo came to a smooth stop in front of Andrew’s three-story palace.

  “Not so shabby, is it?” Andrew unbuckled his seatbelt.

  So did Bronson. “What?”

  “Your new prison. My house. You’ll have the run of the place. Go anywhere you want, any time you want. But there’ll be restrictions. One, you must stay indoors. If you venture out even to sit on the porch, I can’t guarantee your safety. Two, no calls. No Internet. When you need to contact your men, let me know, and I’ll monitor the call. Two simple rules. Do you think you can abide by them?”

  Not for a second. “I’m sure I can manage to control myself.”

  “If that’s the case, everything will run smoothly.” Andrew moved his extended index finger in a small circle. The four men immediately removed their headphones and readied to make their exit.

  * * *

  Bronson spent part of the evening glancing through the titles in the Beauregard library. Every once in a while, a book captured his interest, but he soon returned it to its shelf. Even in this room with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with book after book, arranged by category and in alphabetical order, Bronson found nothing that could help.

  He glanced at his watch: 7:31. He headed to his assigned bedroom. His suitcase had been delivered and rested at the foot of the bed. He opened the suitcase. As far as he could tell, everything was there, including the pair of comfortable pj’s.

  Unfortunately, tonight was not a night that called for pj’s. Bronson unbuckled his belt, set the alarm clock to go off at 3:00 AM, and flopped down on the bed.

  He closed his eyes and forced sleep to embrace him.

  * * *

  At 2:50, Bronson sprung out of bed. The last thing he wanted was for the alarm to go off and wake up whoever slept in the bedrooms close to his. He stretched, bringing life to his aging bones. He combed his hair and used the facilities. He was ready to go. The only thing missing was his gun. And his phone. And Honey. Okay, that was three things missing, but who was counting?

  He opened the door, stuck his head out, and glanced down both sides of the semi-dark hallway. Just as he had hoped, it stood empty.

  He crept out.

  He brought no paper and no pen with him. Anything worth remembering, he’d memorize. Every door in this hallway was closed. Bronson imagined each led to bedrooms, but he wasn’t about to open any of those doors to verify his theory. Later on in the day, when everyone was awake, he’d check the rooms out.

  Bronson worked his way down the spiraling staircase to the second floor. He entered the first room to his right. Another library. Amazing. Was Andrew trying to compete with the Library of Congress? He closed the door and headed to the first floor. If there was any way of escaping from this house, it would be from the ground floor. He’d begin his search there.

  He stared at the massive front door. If he’d open it, probably an alarm would announce to the world what he was doing. His sight traveled to the window next to the door. Being so close to the main door, chances are that it would also be wired.

  But what about the other windows? The ones away from the vestibule. When he and Mike were in the living room to talk to Andrew, Bronson remembered seeing a huge window facing the front of the house. What were the chances of that being wired? He made a b-line for the living room.

  He stood in front of the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He stared at the wall around the window. No wires. No gadgets. He took a step forward and opened the drapes. He looked at the bottom of the window. The top. The right-hand side. The left-hand. Nothing drew his attention. Could it be remotely activated? He placed his hand on the windowpane.

  It felt cool, almost as if—

  That’s when he heard it.

  Footsteps heading toward him.

  Shiiit!

  61

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the stern voice behind Bronson demanded.

  Bronson lowered his arms and pivoted on one foot to face Andrew. “You might not understand.” He looked around, hoping he looked embarrassed instead of startled. “I live in the great outdoors. This is a beautiful place, but it’s suffocatin’ me. I need to breathe the fresh air. I thought if I touched the window, part of the outdoors would come in. Silly, I know.”

  Andrew’s penetrating eyes crawled over Bronson like beetles on a carcass, probing and examining.

  Bronson offered Andrew a weak smile. “I’ll clean the window. Probably has my fingerprints all over.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He continued to stare at Bronson. “You really miss the outdoors that much.”

  Bronson nodded. “More than you know.”

  “We can, if you want, go sit outside for a few minutes.”

  “Thought you said somethin’ horrible would happen to me if I went outdoors.”

  “It will, I assure you, but that’s only if you venture there by yourself. As long as you’re with me, the do—” He stopped.

  Dogs. He was going to say dogs. “I’ve slept in the jungle where lions and tigers roam. I suppose I could venture out to the porch and face the dogs.”

  Andrew smiled. “As long as I’m there, you won’t even see them.”

  “That’s good enough for me.” Bronson followed Andrew out the main door.

  Andrew opted to sit on the swing while Bronson chose a comfortable-looking wicker chair with its seat covered in a bright green and yellow cushion.

  “Is this better?”

  “Much better. I appreciate you losing sleep to spend time with me on the porch.”

  “I won’t make a habit of it. Besides, you will be leaving soon. Tomorrow—or should I say today?—you will contact your men and give me a firm date.”

  “I’ll need my cell for that.”

  “You’ll get it back, and you’re going to put it on speaker.”

  Shiiit! “I can do that.” Bronson looked around. “Your house is brightly lit, inside and out. But beyond these lights, it’s awfully dark. Don’t you have neighbors?”

  Andrew grinned. “That’s what I like about living here. It’s very private. The nearest neighbor is more than fifteen miles away.”

  “And they don’t turn their lights on?”

  Andrew glanced to his right, then quickly away. “I’m sure they have their lights on. We just can’t see them from here.”

  “They? It’s more than one home out there?”

  “Sort of. The senator and his wife live in the main house, but behind it, Thomas occupies the guest house.”
r />   “Nice arrangement.”

  “It works for them, but enough chit-chat. Tell me what your men are waiting for.”

  “You mean what I’m waitin’ for. I needed to know I had the full cooperation of the man in charge. After talking to Thomas earlier today, I believe I do. You did say he’d be at the airport when I take off.”

  A small grin formed at the edges of Andrew’s lips. It came so fast and just as quickly disappeared that Bronson wasn’t sure he saw anything at all. “That’s what he told me.”

  “Then later on today, we’ll finalize the plans.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Andrew looked at his watch. “It’s late. Let’s go inside to sleep. I’m not used to this night thing. Normally, I’m a heavy sleeper.”

  Good to know. Bronson stood and followed Andrew.

  62

  Bronson waited almost half-an-hour before he dared venture out of his room again. He had no men to contact and yet he was supposed to make that call today. Things might go south at that point. He needed a weapon. Finding his gun would be impossible, but a knife could work. He’d bet that the Beauregard’s kitchen would be equipped with a wide selection.

  As before, he inched the door to his room open and peeked down both sides of the hallway. Keeping in the shadows, he worked his way down to the first floor. He was familiar with the front layout of the house, but not the back which was probably where the kitchen was located. He headed that way.

  Down the hallway to his left, he encountered two closed doors. He placed his ear against one. When he didn’t hear anything, he turned the knob and stepped into a glamorous dining room as big as the front half of his house. Across the room, his sight landed on a closed door. That had to lead to the kitchen.

  He was right.

  As soon as he stepped in, he heard a gasp followed by a click as the refrigerator door closed. The night light cast shadows on the man frozen next to the kitchen appliance. Bronson inched his way toward him.