Adventures In A Pair-A-Dice

by Terry Michael Peters

  “This should do it,” I said as I closed the trunk of the car.

  We found a worn path through the scrub brush which led us to a small rocky beach. It wasn’t a sandy beach and we were relieved to find there was no one on it.

  “Careful,” I said to Tom as I negotiated the slippery rocks. Each was covered with slimy algae from the ocean at high tide washing over them.

  We headed off to our left in the direction of Bishop’s house. He had mentioned something about having a private beach and we figured from where we were it would be the first area we found that resembled a beach. As we walked further I could see in the distance an area where the stony shoreline gave way to a section of sandy beach.

  The beach area almost looked manmade – like it had been put there by the hand of man and not the sea. Three hundred feet further the rocks again occupied the shoreline. Now, I thought, this is definitely a private beach. Bishop had been accurate about the beach and the bluffs, as well. Looking up, the back of his property dropped a good 150 feet down to the beach where we were standing.

  “I’m glad we don’t have to climb that,” Tom said.

  “Yeah, looks mighty steep.”

  Fortunately for us, Bishop had gone to very elaborate measures to build a substantial stairway that zigzagged its way back and forth as it made its way from the overlook to the sea. Even the stairway looked challenging, especially with the weight of the three duffel bags.

  “Wait here,” I offered up. “I’m going to check it out.”

  “Be careful,” Tom said as I started up the stairway.

  Making my way up the stairway, I was wondering what it was I was going to find at the top. Now from my vantage point halfway up, I could see further down the shoreline and it was rocks as far as I could see. This has to be the place I reasoned. As I made my way up the last section of stairway, I thought I heard a dog bark. Damn, I thought. That sucks!

  I figured I better move quickly to assess the situation. As I got to the last couple of steps, I crouched down and peered over the back edge of the stairway where the back lawn area started. I could see a house about 300 feet away. Sure enough, in a fenced off area extending to within about 50 feet of me, were two very large dogs - both of which were now barking.

  It was then I remembered the direction of the wind. When we landed, the wind sock had indicated a stiff breeze out of the east which was directly, at that moment, at my back as I lay there looking at these unfriendly dogs.

  Just then I saw a back door open and out stepped a man I recognized as being one of the men that was with Bishop the day earlier. He was yelling for the dogs which were now at this end of the fenced-in area. When the dogs failed to respond to him I saw him start walking in my direction. Oh, shit! I thought.

  I quickly turned and ran down to the first switchback of the stairway. Looking over and down at the beach I motioned for Tom to hide under the last section of stairway. He couldn’t understand what I was asking of him so I stepped over the stairs and took cover. It was then he figured out exactly what I meant for him to do. I wasn’t sure how far this guy was going to investigate the dogs barking but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

  After about 15 minutes, I peered up and over the stairs where I was hiding. I could see the edge of the lawn and saw no one. The dogs had stopped barking as well. I very quickly made my way back down to the last section of stairway to find Tom crouched underneath with the three duffel bags at his side.

  “What was that all about?” he demanded.

  “Well, there are dogs,” I said. “They started barking. Then a guy came out of the house to see what they were barking about and that’s when I motioned for you to take cover.”

  “It’s this wind,” I said.

  “Wind?”

  “Yeah, it’s taking our scent right to the dogs. We’re going to have to come in from the side where the wind won’t carry our scent and any noise we make climbing this hill.”

  “Man, that’s not going to be easy,” Tom said.

  “Under the circumstances, it’s our only option. The fact that this guy came out of the house tells me that they’re going to react to the dogs barking.”

  “Got it,” Tom replied.

  I informed Tom that what I had seen was a fenced-in area that had scrub growth right up to the fence line on both the north and south sides. The wind was actually more in a northeasterly direction now so we figured an approach from the southern side of the house would be best. Even with a stiff breeze these dogs would probably be able to detect us, but it was our best option.

  The climb up the hill without the aid of the stairway was tough and time consuming. The weight of the bags, along with the heat had us exhausted by the time we had made it to the top. We were both sweating profusely and I was thinking out loud when I mentioned the fact that we were making it easier for a dog to smell us. When we got to a point where I thought we were parallel to the fence line I asked Tom for the duffel he had been carrying with the meat in it.

  “You want it all?’ Tom asked.

  “Yeah, let me have it all. I only saw two dogs but they were big. Stay here – I’ll be back.”

  “How long?”

  “If I’m not back in 15, come see about me.”

  With that, I picked up the five pieces of wrapped meat and headed off towards the fence line. Making my way through the scrub brush, I was careful not to make too much noise. The brush was bent over at the top indicating a strong wind in my favor.

  In no time I could see the chain link fence through a thinning area of the growth. I got up against the fence looking at the house from only about 50 feet away. I could see both dogs were lying down near the house underneath the overhang of the roofline which was affording them some shade from the hot sun.

  I carefully unwrapped one of the pieces of meat and, holding it in my hand, tried to figure how I was going to get the dog to eat it. I stood up next to the fence and threw it in their direction.

  The meat landed somewhere in between the two and neither dog reacted. Damn, I thought, now what? I figured I’d throw one more piece over. I managed to get this piece of meat a little further in their direction but still no reaction from the dogs.

  In order to get their attention I started making a hissing sound which quickly alerted them and in no time at all they were on their feet and headed in my direction. The quicker dog stopped in his tracks once he caught the scent of the slab of meat closest to them. Suddenly, both dogs were fighting over the meat unaware of the other slab that lay only about 10 feet further in my direction.

  I unwrapped the third piece and managed to hit one of the dogs with it. His response was quick and his total focus was on the meat. I then threw one more piece over the fence and watched them devour all four pieces of meat.

  As each dog was finishing their second piece of meat I made my retreat into the scrub and back to Tom’s location.

  “How’d it go?” he was anxious to know.

  “Perfect,” I replied.

  “How long do you think it will take?” I asked Tom, knowing well that he, in his life, had taken valium many times both for the pain of a motorcycle injury as well as for recreational purposes.

  “I don’t know on a dog but I would think about a half an hour would do it.”

  I looked at my watch and after 30 minutes both of us made our way back towards the fence line. Once there, we could see the dogs back lying down in the shade of the roof line again.

  “What do you think?” Tom asked.

  “Let’s see,” I replied.

  I started hissing as before but no reaction from the dogs. I did it louder, still no reaction.

  “I think they are out of commission.”

  We decided to stay within the confines of the scrub brush and make our way along the fence line toward the house. There were windows on the back of the house and it would be easy for someone to see us if we were in the yard.

  Up near the house the fence line butted up against what we thought
to be part of the garage and the door where the guy came out of earlier when checking on the barking dogs. When we reached that point we were only about 20 feet from the dogs. I hissed again. Nothing. Not even the slightest movement from either dog.

  “Damn, you think they’re dead?” I asked Tom.

  “No, but they’ll be down for a while.”

  “That’s good,” I said as I started pulling the chlorine filled bottles out of the duffel bags.

  “I figure we’ll use four of these. You take two and I’ll do the other two. Remember, it’s got to be quick and we’ve got to do it at the same time.”

  “Ok,” Tom replied.

  Now the chlorine thing was something Tom and I had both seen done at a party many years ago. Since that time we had impressed a lot of people with the same basic chemistry experiment. It was a matter of one chemical reaction with another in a confined space that was sealed.

  When you took pure chlorine and put it in a plastic bottle for noise or glass bottle for damage then added a piece of aluminum foil and put the lid on tight, the gases would expand to the point of blowing up the container and making a lot of noise in the process.

  Our objective was to draw the occupants of the house outside rather than go inside where we had no idea of the layout of the house or how many people were inside. We then climbed over the fence. We each had a gun, some ammo and two jugs half full of chlorine. As I nodded, we each opened our jugs and stuffed a couple of wadded up pieces of aluminum foil into each jug then screwed the lid down tight.

  We quickly took cover behind the only thing we could which was an air conditioning compressor unit up against the house on the other side of the door. From behind the unit I could see the chemical reaction going on between the chlorine and aluminum. Then BAM! – the first bottle went off followed immediately by the other three.

  It was impressively loud and in no time at all the back door opened and out came two guys both with guns in hand. They looked a bit confused as to what had actually happened. One of the guys noticed the remnants of the plastic jugs on the ground and walked over to the fence line.

  “Look at this!” he yelled out.

  As the second guy started walking toward him, out through the door came Bruce. He then followed the second guy toward the fence line. I looked at Tom and we both knew without a word it was time to go.

  I pulled back the barrel of the colt and loaded the gun, stood up and shouted out, “Drop your guns!”

  It sounded like something out of a movie but I couldn’t think of a better thing to say. The second guy lifted his arm to take aim. BAM! I pulled the trigger and lodged a .22 round into his left thigh. With that, he quickly retreated from any idea of using his gun. By now I could see that Bruce had recognized me and was about to say something when I quickly shut him off.

  “Don’t say a fucking word or I’ll put a fuckin’ bullet in your fuckin’ head. You hear me?” I demanded from him.

  He nodded in acknowledgement. There was a look of confusion all over his face. By this time Tom had his .38 pressed into the head of the other guy who still hadn’t given up on perhaps pursuing some defensive action. Tom pushed the gun tighter into the back of his head as he reached down and took the gun carefully out of his hand.

  “OK, I said, who else is here?”

  No response.

  “Ok,” I said, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way but I’m not fucking around.”

  I walked over, pointed the .22 at the foot of the second guy and fired off a shot. He went right to the ground. As he fell, I could see that the shot had gone through the arch of his foot and had exited through the bottom of his shoe.

  With that, they each started telling what we needed to know. As it turned out, it was just the three of them there. Bishop was off island and was expected back later that day. As we walked them back into the house, the one guy asked what we had done to the dogs that, through out all the commotion, were still down.

  “We killed them,” I replied.

  Now it wasn’t by nature for Tom or me to be hardasses, but there are those who respect you more when they believe that you’re crazier than they are. We were here and totally committed to the task at hand.

  Once in the living room area of the house, I had them all sit together on the couch while Tom went to retrieve the other duffel bags. Neither of the gunshot wounds were life threating but the thigh shot was bleeding a lot and I didn’t want the guy to die from blood loss. Once Tom was back we managed to duct tape feet and hands to restrict the two from being any more trouble.

  We separated them between two bedrooms. I then walked back into the room of the first guy I had shot. He was still bleeding pretty good. I reached down and drew my Randall from its sheath. His eyes went wide. As I approached him there on the bed, he started to shake.

  “Hold still,” I said. “I just want to cut away your pant leg to see about your wound.”

  Slicing away the pant leg, you could see it wasn’t all that bad. It had actually grazed him ripping out a chunk of flesh but there was no bullet left in his leg. I went to get some towels and bandages and managed to stop the bleeding. The other guy’s foot was another matter. I had no idea what to do so I didn’t.

  Next I focused on Bruce. He was still afraid to say anything so I finally said to him, “What the fuck, man?”

  “You lied to me!” I yelled at him

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Did you track me all the way down here for that?”

  I stared at him.

  “No,” I said after a long pause. “We’re here on your father’s dime to take you back to the States.”

  “What?” he asked, not understanding the connection between us and his father.

  “Well, remember my back pack I left in your Mercedes that night?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Well, one thing led to another and pretty soon your dad’s offering us a lot of money to find you. So the bottom line is we’re here to help you, not hurt you. So grab your stuff and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “I can’t,” he replied.

  “What?” I said. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? Let’s go.”

  “I can’t,” he insisted. “You don’t understand what’s going on here.”

  “Oh, I know what’s going on here. Bishop’s holding you hostage until you complete a certain number of smuggling trips into the States with his cocaine and that he has documented evidence that implicates you and André in such affairs.”

  The look on his face was disbelief. “How do you know all this?” he demanded.

  “Look, personally, I don’t think you’re worth the amount of money your dad’s paying us to bring you back but for that amount we’re going to find out everything we need to know to do what we’re gonna do. Understand? Now, grab your shit!”

  “Look, if I leave with you he’ll only come after me or turn over what evidence he has against me and André and then everybody loses.”

  “Except me and Tom,” I said.

  As I was going to further insist I heard a beeping sound. “What’s that?” I asked Bruce.

  “That’s the garage door,” he informed me. “It’s Bishop.”

  I yelled out for Tom who was already peering out the front window.

  “One car, two guys,” he said.

  “Ok,” I said looking Bruce right in the face. “You say nothing. You just sit here when they come through the door.”

  “Which door do they usually use?” Tom demanded from Bruce.

  “That one over there. It goes out to the garage.”

  “This one here?” I said pointing at a door in the direction of the garage.

  “Yeah, that one,” Bruce said.

  “Ok, Tommy, over here quick”.

  Tom got on one side of the door and I took a position on the other side in a hall that led into a laundry room. The next .22 round was already in the chamber. As I drew the gun up around my face I remembered Bishop as being on the t
all side and I wanted to be as close as possible to his face right from the get go.

  I could hear the car pulling into the garage. Next I heard the closing of two car doors followed by the garage door motor closing the door. I didn’t hear anyone say a thing but could hear footsteps across the concrete floor of the garage. Suddenly, I had to pee. Are you kidding me? I thought to myself. Get a grip.

  I was feeling a bit more nervous about this confrontation than the one earlier in the yard. Just then I saw the door knob turn and in walked Bishop followed by the other person with him. Bishop headed towards the living room and was halfway there before the other guy got all the way through the door.

  “Ok, hold it right there!” I yelled out to Bishop.

  I walked quickly towards him with the gun pointed at his face hoping that at the same time Tom was focused on the other guy.

  “You, too!” I heard Tom shout out.

  Both were totally surprised and totally unprepared for any sort of defensive move. Bishop immediately asked what this was all about and wanted to know what we had done with the other two that were there at the house.

  “We shot them,” I replied. “And, I’m going to shoot you, too, if you don’t get the fuck into the living room and sit down.”

  With that, Bishop walked into the living room and sat down on the couch next to Bruce asking him if this was his doing.

  “He had nothing to do with this,” I said before Bruce could say anything.

  As I turned back towards the doorway, Tom was escorting the other guy into the room.

  When he saw me he said, “Hey, I know you.”

  As I was trying to figure out why or how he would know me, he informed Bishop that I was the guy in Nassau that he had left in the closet.

  “Oh, man,” I said to him as Tom walked him past me. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

  I held the gun on Bishop as Tom first duct-taped the one who had done the same to me and then taped up Bishop, as well.

  “Ok, you – in the other room,” I said to Bruce pointing the gun at him.