by L. T. Ryan
"Me too," Mandy said as she buried her face against Clarissa's chest and wrapped her arms tight around her back.
Clarissa took a seat at the table and sat Mandy on her lap.
Bear watched from across the room, smiled. How many homes had a scene like this played out tonight? Hundreds? Thousands? Surely none under these circumstances.
"Hungry?" Bear asked.
"Yeah," Clarissa said.
Bear fixed her a plate of steak and broccoli and placed it in front of her. He walked back to the fridge, leaned against it. He scratched at the growth on his face for a moment. "There's something I need to tell you."
She looked up from her plate with a mouth full of food. "What?"
Bear opened his mouth to speak when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. "Shit. I gotta take this." He stepped through the back door and waited for it to close behind him. "Brandon?"
"Bear," Brandon said. "I got them."
"Who?" Bear's mind raced with possibilities. Jack? The Russians? What if Brandon was playing Bear and said Clarissa?
"Russ and his crew."
"Where at?"
"Back of some Chinese joint. Tonight. Poker game."
"Security there?"
"Yeah," Brandon said. "But I can send my guys. You slip in, boom-bam-boom, slip back out. Simple."
"Yeah, simple." Bear stared up at the sky. "Where's this place?"
Brandon read off the name and address of the restaurant.
Bear knew the place. Even ate there on occasion until he read the health department's report. It was less than a block from the interrogation apartment. "Excellent. What time?"
"Nine tonight."
Bear hung up. Looked at his watch. Six-thirty. He walked back inside and stood in front of the table, fumbling over the words he needed to get out.
Jack's in a maximum security Russian jail with no hope of getting out. Just say it.
"Well?" Clarissa said, her arms out to the side.
"It's gotta wait."
Clarissa rolled her eyes. "Is it about Jack?"
Bear shot a glance at Mandy, who now sat at attention, listening intently to the conversation. Saying anything else would only stress the girl out even more, not to mention Clarissa. He couldn't do what he needed to do with that kind of pressure weighing on him.
"Wait till I get back, OK?" he said.
"OK," Clarissa said. "Where’re you going?"
"Into the city. Don't worry about it." He grabbed his keys off the top of the refrigerator and opened the back door again. "Don't wait up."
"I will," she said.
Bear pulled into the lot behind the apartment building and parked his car next to the dumpster. A great place to park, he figured, in case you ever had someone shooting at you. The dumpster could take the hit and protect you. Plus, they made great places to stash a dead body.
He unlocked the door, stepped into the dark apartment, walked to the back room. Punched in a code and opened a locker and armed himself with two Smith and Wesson 9 mm pistols. He grabbed three stun grenades, one to get in, one to get out, and one for an oh-shit moment. Oh-shit moments occurred far too often these days. And with that thought, he took off his shirt and put on a flak jacket. He had no misgivings that he'd be walking into a room full of unarmed men.
He exited the apartment through the front door, turned right, rounded a corner and stopped in front of Ling's, the local dine-in/take out Chinese joint with bad food and a fully stocked bar. Great combination. A tall man in a black leather jacket stood in front of the door. He watched Bear approach.
Bear nodded and waited for the man's response.
The man nodded back and stepped to the side, giving Bear a wide berth for entrance.
Brandon comes through again.
Bear entered the restaurant, which was completely empty aside from a few of the wait staff sitting at a round table playing cards and taking shots. The bartender was busy making drinks. At the back of the restaurant another man stood in front of a closed door. He was practically a clone of the first guard, only this guy was armed with an assault rifle.
Bear nodded again.
The man nodded back, stepped aside.
"You might want to go out front." Bear pulled out a stun grenade and held it up for the man to inspect.
The guard walked to the front of the restaurant without saying a word.
Bear waited for him to exit to the street. He took a deep breath. Pushed through the door and threw the grenade into the middle of the room. He closed the door before the explosion, counted to five and reentered the room. The flashes of light had stopped. Smoke enveloped the room. Four men littered the floor, dazed and confused.
Bear scanned their faces. He quickly shot the two he didn't recognize. Direct hit, between the eyes, both men. He followed it up with a shot to the back of their heads while standing over them.
Russ staggered to his feet and Bear drove the gun across the back of his head and the man collapsed.
Bear pulled James Reston off the ground, held him up to the wall. "Like shooting at little girls and boys and killing their parents?"
James stuttered, but managed to speak. "What?"
Bear brought a large fist across the man's face.
James went limp.
"Wake up," Bear said as he put the barrel of his gun to James's head. He pulled him up off the floor and pinned him to the wall.
Russ groaned from the other side of the room.
Bear looked over his shoulder and saw the man getting to his feet again.
Bear fired two bullets into James, watched him fall to the ground. He turned his attention to Russ. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Russ cursed at him as he crawled toward the door.
"Who sent you?" Bear said.
"Wh-What?"
"Montana," Bear said. "Who sent you to Montana to kill the girl?"
Russ laughed. "Eat shit, man." He had his hand on the doorknob.
Bear moved behind Russ and wrapped his arm around his throat. "You're coming with me."
He dragged Russ through the restaurant.
The bartender and wait staff huddled together by the front door. None of them made eye contact with Bear.
"I was never here," Bear said. "I seen all your faces. You got that?"
None of them said anything, they turned away in unison. Of course they got it. They knew how to be quiet. Criminals practically lived in the place.
Bear opened the door a crack.
"All done?" one of the guards asked.
"Yup," Bear said.
"We'll clean up."
Bear walked past the men. He held Russ up straight and pressed a gun into his side. The block was deserted. Not a single car passed during the short walk from the restaurant to the apartment. He led Russ up the stairs and stopped in front of the door.
"Where are you taking me?" Russ asked.
"Shut up," Bear said.
Bear opened the door to the apartment and pushed Russ through the hall, down the stairs and shoved him into the wall. "Don't move." Bear unlocked the reinforced steel door and pulled it open. Grabbed Russ by the back of his head and threw him into the room.
"Let's play a game," Bear said.
Russ got this his knees, crawled to the concrete wall and pulled himself to his feet. He took a deep breath, said nothing.
"C'mon," Bear said. "Get through me and you can leave."
Russ didn't move. His eyes darted around, stopped and focused on Bear.
Bear stepped closer. "What d'you say?"
Russ swung his fist fast and hard. It caught Bear on the jaw. Caught the big man by surprise.
Bear stepped back, regained his balance and laughed. "That all you got?"
Russ stepped forward and took another swing.
Bear dodged, lunged forward and tackled Russ, landing on top of the smaller man, then he threw two quick punches into the back of Russ's head. Bear got to his feet, pulled Russ up and pushed him against the wall.
The man looked dazed as he swayed back and forth.
Bear delivered an uppercut that knocked Russ unconscious. He dragged him across the cell and chained his arms and legs to the wall.
Russ shook and came to. "Who are you?"
Bear ignored him, walked to the door. "Goodnight," he said as he closed the steel door. "If I don't see you alive again, it was nice playing."
The door clicked shut and Russ's screams faded, drowned out by the soundproof concrete room.
14
Jack lay on the top bunk in the nine by ten foot cell. How the Russians expected two grown men to share such a space baffled him. It'd only been a couple days, but the routine was starting to settle in. The language barrier posed some problems with the guards. They beat him when he didn't react fast enough to their foreign orders. His tall roommate offered no help, only stared at him with dark burning eyes. Jack still didn't know his name, didn't care either.
The man paced the cell, never taking his eyes off of Jack. He'd stop occasionally and bare his few remaining gnarled teeth.
The first couple dozen times Jack offered no reaction, but this time he'd had enough.
"Make your move," Jack said.
The big man stopped pacing. He lifted his arms and pressed them against the ceiling. "When I make my move, it will be when you sleep. You'll wake to find me eating your flesh."
"Hope you like the—"
The guards started banging on the outer wall of the cell. Yells in Russian filled the air. The tall man bent over and backed up to the wall and placed his hands in the slot where the guards delivered their meals.
Jack didn't move.
"Enjoy your beating," the Russian said while the guards placed handcuffs around his wrists. He stepped forward a few feet and straightened.
The guards yelled louder.
Jack didn't move.
The solid door opened. A guard stepped forward and unlocked the door made from iron bars, the gate to the cell within the cell. He shouted and pointed at Jack, then at the floor. Three more guards entered the room. Two removed Jack's cellmate.
Jack flung his feet over the side of the bed and held his hands up.
The guards didn't wait. They pulled Jack off the bed by his feet. The bottom bunk prevented the back of his head from taking a six foot dive into the concrete floor. They twisted his legs and forced him onto his stomach, all while shouting in Russian. They cuffed his hands and pulled him to his feet. One stood behind, one in front.
"Assume the position," the guard in front said in English. A thick hard plastic club dangled from his hand.
Jack sighed, looked up and closed his eyes. No friggin’ way these guys were going to break him. He knew what was coming, braced for it.
It didn't matter.
The club slammed into his midsection with the force of a small car. Jack doubled over. The guard behind him held Jack's arms high behind his back, preventing him from hitting the floor. It took a good thirty seconds before he managed to refill his lungs with air and rid himself of the painful burn in his oxygen-deprived lungs.
They dragged him from his cell into the hall. Guards positioned themselves on either side of him. He felt their hands around his elbows. One placed a hand on the back of his head, keeping him bent over and looking down. They forced him to walk in this position, a stress position. They came to a door where bright sunlight filtered in and reflected off the white tile floor. Jack felt another hand on the back of his head and his vision went dark as a blindfold slipped across his face. Same as yesterday. They kept the prisoners blindfolded so they couldn't react if something happened while they were being transported. They'd have no idea where they were in the facility. Brilliant.
The guards led him along a solid path. They continued shouting in Russian and he still didn't understand a damn word. Dogs barked and growled in the distance. The guards stopped him. He heard the noise of metal scraping against rusted hinges. They pushed him forward, removed his blindfold and straightened him up. Jack rolled his head and saw his cellmate standing next to him, eyes forward. The guards unlocked another door and pushed the two men inside a large cage. The exercise room.
There was no prison yard where prisoners could gather at Black Dolphin. This was it. Ninety minutes a day in yet another cage with the man you spent the other twenty-two and a half hours with.
Jack paced the length of the room. Above him guards patrolled on a catwalk overlooking the exercise rooms. Chain link fencing hovered fifteen feet above, parallel to the floor, keeping the prisoners away from the guards, and giving the guards easy access to shoot if necessary.
Would they shoot?
Jack stared at his cellmate. The tall man leaned back against the wall. A lit cigarette dangled from his mouth. The smoke streamed toward the open ceiling, wrapping around the man's large deformed head.
"Got another one of those?" Jack asked.
The Russian took a drag, exhaled and spit on the floor.
"Just one, man," Jack said.
The Russian pulled out a cigarette, snapped it in half and flicked it toward Jack.
Jack stopped mid-step and started toward him. A guard yelled from above. Jack stopped. Language didn't matter. He understood the tone.
The tall man smiled. He pulled another cigarette out, lit it and held it out for Jack. "Don't ever ask again."
Jack passed the next hour or so with a mixture of walking, sprinting across the room, and doing push-ups.
Finally, the guards started yelling from outside the room. Jack's cellmate backed up to the door first. Jack stood still. Made them come to him. Three guards surrounded him and he braced for the worst. They didn't beat him, though. This time they cuffed him and bent him over. He let them, too.
The blindfold went on and the guards led him back to his room. Ten minutes later they delivered lunch. Soup and bread. Again.
Jack let his food sit on the little table the men had to share.
His cellmate took that as an open invitation to help himself to Jack's lunch. He stuffed the bread into his mouth in one go and dumped the soup into his empty bowl.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jack said.
The man turned his head to look at Jack. He laughed and small chunks of bread sprayed out, glistening in the air before falling onto the floor.
Jack walked over to the small table where they ate. The Russian pushed himself back, turned slightly to face Jack. Jack reached down, grabbed the bowl and dumped soup on the Russian's chest and lap.
The big man looked down, brushed chunks of meat and vegetables off his chest. "I hope you enjoyed your last cigarette," he said.
Jack smiled. One way or another he was getting out of this shit hole. He glanced around the cell for anything he could use as a weapon. Not much there that would be effective against a seven foot tall man. The size of the cell could work to Jack's advantage, though. It could also work against him if the Russian pinned him in a corner.
The Russian stood, stretched.
Jack didn't wait for him to finish. He threw his arms back and onto the top bunk, pushed off and delivered a kick to the man's midsection with both legs.
The Russian doubled over.
Jack dropped to the floor and drove an elbow into the middle of the Russian's back.
The Russian let out a groan, threw himself forward and pulled up on the cage enclosing the front of the room. He quickly turned around, arms in a defensive position.
Jack knew he couldn't wait too long. Guards would be there any minute. He lunged at the Russian, who reacted by throwing a right hook. Jack ducked and exploded upwards, slamming his fist into the Russian's chin.
The big man fell backwards, his body colliding with the bars in a thud.
Jack grabbed him by his shirt and started to swing him forward. The Russian managed to get an arm wrapped around Jack’s torso, then his other arm wrapped around Jack's neck.
Jack felt his body lift and his feet were no longer touching the ground. He pried
at the man's arm, but couldn't get the Russian's grip around his neck to loosen. Jack twisted his body and elbowed at the man's side, but he couldn't manage enough torque to do any damage. Finally, he reached up and behind and found the big man's eye sockets. He dug his thumbs into the man's eyes.
The Russian let go of Jack and fell to the floor. Jack twisted fast and drove his elbow into the Russian's stomach. The big man collapsed on Jack's back.
Jack reached back around the man's neck and flipped him over his shoulder. Moving quickly, Jack lifted the dazed man and pushed him forward into the opposite end of the cell. He grabbed sheets off the bottom bunk and wrapped them around the Russian's neck, and then threaded the ends through the cell bars.
Jack turned and started pulling toward the front of the cell, holding the ends of the sheet over his shoulders. He looked back, saw the Russian being lifted to his feet.
The big man clawed at the sheet wrapped tight around his neck, but could not get his fingers between the fabric and his neck. His feet slid along the floor as he searched for traction as his face turned dark and his eyes bulged.
Jack lunged forward a few more feet, looked back, saw the Russian suspended in the air, feet off the ground. Jack kept going until the man's head nearly touched the ceiling. He jerked forward several times causing, the Russian's body to bounce and finally his neck to snap.
The Russian went limp. Jack gave one more violent tug and then let go. The big man's body fell to the floor.
Jack checked for a pulse, found none.
Then, he waited.
The guards showed up moments later. They rushed in the cell, no words this time, just the guards and their clubs.
Jack managed to avoid the first two clubs swinging toward his head. He landed a punch on the third guard. Nearly made it to the door before the fourth guard's club came down heavy and hard against the back of Jack's head. He hit the floor with a thud. Black combat boots surrounded his head. He passed out.
15
"Ms. Clarissa? Are you awake?"
Clarissa opened her eyes. Rings of blond hair dangled across her face, tickling her nose. She felt Mandy's hot breath as the girl whispered in her ear.
