Ions Of Luck

by Markus Fredericks

  “Does he usually wear a wedding ring?” asked Aldo.

  “No – he hasn’t worn his wedding ring in years,” explained Jessica with a look of hurt in her beautiful, blue eyes.

  “Great. I have no problem with that. In fact, I’d prefer not to wear someone else’s symbol of love,” said Danny, “especially when it’s so obvious he doesn’t love you at all.”

  “People who are blessed with easy money often take everything for granted,” said Aldo. “Let’s get going – the traffic heading into town can be awfully slow.”

  As they opened the garage door they glanced at the partially filled, swimming pool site. “Rest in peace, Mr. Limo Driver,” said a somber Jessica. “I promise to make sure your family is taken care of.”

  They loaded up Danny and his crutches into the back seat of her Cadillac Escalade so he could keep his leg elevated.

  “Jessica, should I follow behind you in my Toyota?” asked Aldo.

  “Aldo, there’s no need for that. Just leave your car here until we get back. Besides, if you drive alone you won’t be able to drive in the carpool lanes, so it will slow you down.”

  Jessica let out the Rottweiler dogs, Killjoy and Chomps, to patrol the yard as they drove up the winding, private road.

  Husband Danny had been plotting his escape all through the night, and he swore he’d get revenge on his wife. When he overheard the garage door open, he was ready to initiate his escape. A couple minutes later, he recognized the muffled sounds of the electronic gate opening, and then closing, so he knew that the coast was clear.

  With his hands and feet feeling rather numb from being taped up all night, he struggled to wiggle across the concrete floor until he reached the nearest wine rack. With his fingertips, he grabbed the nearest bottle and managed to break it against the floor.

  He selected a sharp fragment of glass, and began to whittle on the tape around his wrists. Although it was awkward to grasp, after several minutes of slicing, his hands were free once again. With his hands no longer held together, cutting away the tape around his ankles was a simple task.

  “I’m saving every shred of tape,” a spiteful Danny thought to himself, “and I’ll present it to the police as evidence of my kidnapping. I’ll laugh out loud when they haul Jessica and her accomplice to jail, but first I need to break through the barricaded door. If I can call my banker, I can alert him to not authorize any major transactions. With all the lawyer friends I know, Jessica is going to be locked up for many years, and I can continue to fool around with Babs – and any other hot chick I happen to fancy.”

  Meanwhile, the Samoan was still feeling the lingering effect of a concussion, but he spent most of the night gnawing through the duct-tape with his teeth. While he chewed through it, he figured an alternate plan of escape since he was unable to lift the limo’s rear trunk lid. Once his hands were finally free, he figured he could use the tire iron to burrow through the panel separating him from the main passenger section. Once he was there, he hoped he could still operate the sliding sunroof, and dig his way to freedom.

  It was an exhausting ordeal, but with determination he finally made a hole big enough to crawl into the passenger section. It was pitch black in there as well, but he felt relieved when he was able to turn on the dome light.

  Back inside the wine cellar, husband Danny labored mightily to break through the out-swinging, solid wood door which was securely wedged by a chair on the hallway side. After his shoulder became sore from trying to crash through it, he found an empty, beer keg which he used to repeatedly smash down on the door knob. After several hard whacks, the doorknob broke off. He was able to push the other side of the doorknob’s handle out with the end of another wine bottle. Once the door knob was gone, it was easy for him to dislodge the wedged chair. Moments later, he was free.

  “OK, Jessica – you’re in big trouble now,” thought her husband as he headed upstairs to look for his missing cell phone.

  Meanwhile, with the dome light on, the Samoan could see that soil was packed up against all the limo windows. Although he knew he was buried underground, he had no idea how deep the dirt was. He swore out loud, “If I find those two attackers, I’m going to kill them.”

  Next, he pushed the button to open the sliding sunroof, but nothing happened. The dirt pushing downwards created too much friction to allow it to slide open. However, when he jammed the tire iron into the edge, he was able to pry it open. Piles of dirt cascaded into the limo, and for several seconds the limo driver was coughing and choking on a thick cloud of dust.

  A minute later, the dust settled enough for him to regain his breathing, and he opened his eyes to see daylight filtering into the limo. When he stood upright, he poked his head out to see where he was – he could instantly tell that he had been buried alive in a very expensive neighborhood right next to Lake Washington. The limo driver knew he was in danger, and he needed to run away to safety as soon as possible.

  The big Samoan climbed out through the sunroof, and he promptly headed towards the driveway. He paused when he recognized the scuffed up Toyota parked in front of the garage. It was the same car that sideswiped his limo the day before. However, just when he saw the main gate he heard the sudden, loud growling of two Rottweiler attack dogs closing in on him.

  “I should have kept the tire iron with me,” was his thought right before he suddenly felt excruciating pain when Killjoy was biting his left hand. Chomps lunged at his face, but the tough Samoan was able to fight it off for a moment with a hard punch to the dog’s nose. Suddenly, he was free for a second, so he ran towards the house. He glanced at his left hand and saw that his pinky and ring finger had been chewed completely off, and his middle finger was dangling by some threads of flesh.

  “Help me!” he yelled out loud as he ran towards the front door with the barking dogs chasing him once again. Fortunately, the front door was unlocked. However, just as he was entering the house, Chomps bit into his ankle. He was able to slam the door on the dog’s neck and kick his leg loose before shutting the door. The loud barking of the excited dogs continued.

  Husband Danny had been upstairs in the master suite looking for his cell phone to call up his banker when he heard the commotion. He was still only wearing underwear when he ran down the hallway to see what was going on.

  “Who the hell are you?” said Mr. Donaldson as he leaned over the railing at the top of the stairs.

  The grimacing limo driver held his mauled, left hand. He was dripping blood all over when he looked upwards. Instant rage set in when he recognized him. He shouted, “I know who you are. You’re the goddamn asshole who knocked me out yesterday, and then you buried me alive. I saw your damn, scuffed up Toyota sitting out in the driveway. Your car is all scratched up on the side, right where you sideswiped my limo. I hate your guts, and I’m going to kill you,” and the adrenalized behemoth charged up the stairway.

  Husband Danny had no idea what he was talking about, but he was scared out of his wits at being chased by a bleeding madman who was coming to kill him. A breathless, panicking Danny ran to the master bedroom to get the loaded gun which was kept in a desk drawer. Just as he retrieved the gun from the desk, the bleeding Samoan charged into the room. Danny pointed the gun straight at him and pulled the trigger, but it didn’t fire since the safety catch was still on.

  The gun flew out of his hands when he was tackled hard by the crazed man. Both men knew that this would be a fight to the finish, although the Samoan clearly had a major size and strength advantage. The limo driver straddled Danny’s chest, who was sprawled out on his back on the floor. The big Samoan rained down some pulverizing blows to his opponent’s face, knocking out several of Mr. Donaldson’s front teeth, and he also broke his nose with hard punches dealt by his right fist, but he maintained consciousness due to a major surge of adrenalin. Fortunately for Mr. Donaldson, he had presence of mind to grab the Samoan’s dangling, left middle finger, and he repeatedly twisted and yanked on it. The limo driver cried out in
agony, as Mr. Donaldson kept on pulling on his hurt finger until it completely tore off.

  Mr. Donaldson was still dazed from the multiple hard punches to his face, but he was able to shove the Samoan off his chest. A moment later, he managed to retrieve his gun which had been flung through the open door into the hallway at the time when he was tackled. Just as he grasped the gun and disengaged the safety, he was grabbed again from behind by the big lunatic’s healthy right hand. Mr. Donaldson managed to break away and run down the hallway with the Samoan in hot pursuit. Just as they got to the end of the hallway by the stairway, Mr. Donaldson turned around and shot the charging Samoan right in the heart – but the forward momentum of the monstrous madman hit him hard enough so that he flew down the stairs, and he crashed onto the inlaid, marble floor. His skull made a vulgar thud as it bounced off the hard, stone floor. Mr. Donaldson’s skull was severely fractured. He lied flat on his back, unconscious on the white, marble floor as a growing pool of blood surrounded his head…

  11

  While Jessica was driving to the downtown branch of Key Bank, Danny familiarized himself with the contents of the famous writer’s wallet. He was glad to see that his signature closely resembled the one on Danny Donaldson’s driver’s license.

  “Hey, Danny,” said Aldo as they entered the parking lot in the building’s basement, “I’ll bet they all know you by name. You need to come up with a good explanation why you’re on crutches, since somebody’s bound to ask.”

  “I’ll just be honest and tell them that Jessica shot me when she mistook me for her real husband.”

  “Say, what?” commented a bewildered Jessica.

  “Of course – I’m only kidding. I’ll just say that I pulled a hamstring muscle – let’s say, during a friendly game of tennis, and that I’ll be fine in a week or two.”

  “That’s perfect,” said Jessica. “My husband likes to play tennis, so that sounds very plausible.”

  When they made it to the bank lobby, the trio approached the main desk.

  “I’d like to see the branch manager, please,” said Danny in a businesslike manner.

  “For sure, Mr. Donaldson,” said the receptionist. “Please have a seat. Terry is in a meeting right now.”

  “Do you know how long he will be?”

  “Excuse me, but Terry is a ‘she’ – She’s been your private banker for several years.”

  “Oops – that was just a slip of the tongue. We’ll be happy to wait until Terry is available.”

  “That was real smooth,” whispered Aldo. “You better stay focused, or things can go awry in a hurry.”

  While they sat and waited, all of a sudden, they heard a voice from behind…

  “Oh my God – Danny, you’re on crutches. What happened to you?”

  Jessica recognized that it was one of her husband’s golfing buddies. She quickly turned around and took over the conversation, “Hi, Toby. I’m sorry, but as you can see, Danny won’t be able to play in the upcoming golf tournament.”

  Reaching out to shake hands with her and Danny, Toby asked, “What happened to you?”

  “Toby – it’s nothing serious,” explained Danny, “I pulled my hamstring a couple days ago while playing tennis.”

  “Oh no, Danny, we need you on our golfing team. Now, we have to find a replacement for you in the 4-man, scramble tournament at Sahalee. I don’t know how great of a golfer you really are, but you always seem to bring the luck of the golf Gods with you. Just last month I watched your ball bounce off a tree trunk, and it rolled straight into the cup. We could sure use you on our team. The tournament happens a week from Saturday. Do you think you’ll be able to play?”

  “I’m sorry, Toby, but that’s just too soon for me – doctor’s orders, you know.”

  “Well, Danny, you take good care of that leg now. Larry and Sam will be devastated to hear the news, but we’ll figure out something. Make sure to give me a jingle as soon as you’re feeling better.”

  “I’ll definitely do that. See you later – and say ‘hi’ to Larry and Sam.”

  Just as Toby left to visit the teller’s window, a well-groomed female in her early forties approached them…

  “Oh, Mr. Donaldson, I’m so sorry to see you’re on crutches.”

  “That’s OK, Terry. I just pulled a hamstring muscle while playing tennis.”

  “I’m not ‘Terry’ – I’m Abigale, the assistant manager,” she replied with a confused look on her face. “I came to tell you that Terry will be with you shortly.”

  When she left Aldo reiterated, “Come on, Danny – stay focused, or you can expect some big trouble.”

  Danny said nothing, but he nodded his head in agreement.

  A minute later, Terry Jenkins, the branch manager came over…

  “Hello, Mr. Donaldson, Abigale told me about your leg injury. I hope you’re doing well.”

  “Thanks, Terry, it’s nothing too serious – I just accidentally pulled a hamstring while playing tennis. The doctor told me to take it easy for a while.”

  “I wish you a speedy recovery. So, Mr. Donaldson, how may we help you today?”

  “Well, as a member of the University of Washington’s Alumni Association, I’d like to make a sizeable donation to my alma mater. Besides, doing so will please my CPA.”

  Giggling slightly, Terry said, “Of course your accountant would be pleased by your charitable donation – it’s a great tax deduction. So, Mr. Donaldson, how much are planning to donate?”

  “I’d like to donate an even three million dollars, payable to the University of Washington’s College of Arts and Sciences, Physics Department with a footnote that the proceeds are to be used for maintaining Professor Aldo Paganini’s laboratory. He’s developing a device he calls, ‘a communication chamber’, which enables inter-dimensional communications.”

  “Oh my, that sounds very futuristic,” replied Terry. Turning her attention to Aldo she asked, “By any chance, are you Professor Paganini?”

  “Yes, ma’am – that’s me.”

  “Very well, I’ll draft a bank check payable to the University of Washington in the amount of three million dollars. We all know you by name, Mr. Donaldson, but we still require two pieces of ID plus a fingerprint impression of your right index finger. It’s just a formality. Is there any other transaction you wish to do?”

  “I’d also like to make a cash withdrawal.”

  “Of course, Mr. Donaldson – the tellers can help you with that.”

  “I’m sure they’ll need your approval since I’d like to withdraw five hundred thousand dollars in cash.”

  “That’s an extraordinarily large amount,” replied Terry with a suspicious look in her eye. “Why do you need so much cash?”

  “I have my reasons, but let me remind you that it’s my money, and it’s really none of your business anyway,” said a daunted Danny. “I just need to know, how much cash can I leave with today?”

  “I’m terribly sorry – I didn’t mean to offend you,” said a defensive Terry. “We just don’t have that much cash at this branch at the moment, but I’m sure we can put together three hundred thousand for you. If you need more, you need to give us a 24 hour notice.”

  “The three hundred thousand dollars works for me just fine,” said Danny in a friendlier tone, “and no offense taken.”

  After filling out all the necessary forms, about twenty minutes later Terry had all the cash rounded up in one hundred dollar bills – there were thirty bundles each containing ten thousand dollars. The cash was placed into an inconspicuous, brown paper bag. Next, she handed Aldo the three million dollar bank check made out to the University of Washington.

  “Good luck to you, professor, with your research project,” said Terry, “and Mr. Donaldson, please be careful with all that cash. Some people would be willing to kill for that much.”

  “Thanks for the good advice – and thank you for the great service.”

  The mood was joyous on the way back to Mercer Island. A
ldo invited both Jessica and Danny to come visit him at the campus lab. They both eagerly accepted his invitation. However, their cheerful mood changed as soon as they drove past their gate. She always saw the two Rottweiler dogs coming together, but this time Killjoy was alone– and his face was splattered with blood. Moments later, Aldo pointed at a flesh-toned object lying in the middle of the driveway.

  “Oh, God no – it’s somebody’s finger,” said Jessica as she fought off the urge to puke.

  Danny struggled to get out from the back of the Cadillac Escalade on his own power while Aldo ran to the back of the garage to peek at the swimming pool. Chills ran down his spine as he announced to Jessica and Danny, “Oh, hell – I really don’t like what I’m seeing… I wonder if the limo driver was actually still alive when we buried him. It looks as though he had managed to dig his way out from the buried vehicle. I can see his footsteps leading from a small hole in the middle of the excavated pool, and they lead straight towards the edge of the driveway.”

  Danny was walking down the driveway on his crutches. He soon came across another loose finger, followed by a trail of blood drippings leading to the front door of the house.

  Killjoy ran in front of them and stopped when he got to the entrance. The dog whimpered as he stood next to Chomps, who had died from a broken neck.

  “Oh boy,” said Danny, “I’m afraid to see what we might find inside.”

  “Me too,” said Jessica.

  “Me three,” added Aldo.

  Jessica gasped at the horrific sight as soon as they opened the door. There were blood splatters everywhere. Moments later, they spotted her husband lying still on the marble floor at the base of the stairs. There was an ominously large, bloody puddle surrounding his head.

  “Is he still alive?” asked the other Danny.

  “He must be,” said Aldo, “since I’m pretty sure you’d be dying right now as well on account of nature’s required balancing of luck ions – at least that’s the theory – but what do I know. I thought the Samoan was surely dead when we buried the limo, yet somehow he must have been alive and managed to dig his way out to freedom.”