Thirteen to None

by Claude Bouchard

  “It’s a wallet,” Dave replied through clenched teeth.

  “It’s your wallet, motherfucker,” Butch hissed. “It’s your wallet, along with your police ID card, Captain. You’re a fucking cop so why’d you tell me you were a damned lawyer?”

  Dave shrugged. “I figured it wouldn’t go over well if I told you I was a cop.”

  “You figured?” Butch sneered. “Who the hell told you to figure anything?”

  “Aw, Jesus, let it go,” Jonathan growled.

  “Not your business, buddy, so shut the fuck up,” Butch snarled, his eyes never leaving Dave. “What you never figured, Mister Policeman, is that you lied to me and that was a big mistake.”

  His face a grimace of rage, he stepped back then kicked Dave in the chest, knocking the chair backwards and causing Dave’s head to smash against the oak floor. Jumping over the fallen chair, he dropped down and pressed a knee into Dave’s throat.

  “Didn’t you pay attention when I explained the rules?” he hissed before backhanding Dave in the face. “I said that if you do anything stupid, you’re gonna get hurt. Didn’t you hear me say that before?”

  Dave nodded, unable to speak with the pressure on his throat.

  Butch raised his knee slightly and said, “Lying to me is stupid. Understand?”

  “Got it,” Dave rasped.

  “That was your first and only warning,” Butch replied as he stood. “Screw up again and you’ll see what getting hurt for real is all about.”

  He turned and knuckle-rapped Jonathan on the back of the head then stormed off to the kitchen while bellowing, “Ape, get that lying bastard back up, will ya? I’m going to get me another beer.”

  * * * *

  “Here we go, ladies,” said Alexandre as he entered the room followed by one of his kitchen staff, both carrying trays laden with drinks, sandwiches and snacks.

  “Thanks, Alex,” said Sandy, “But this really wasn’t necessary.”

  “Ha,” Alexandre scoffed. “You should know by now that I look after my friends, young lady.”

  Upon deciding to head to the marina, Sandy had called Alexandre to inform him of their impending arrival and asked if he could lend them some space for a while. He had been waiting on the dock to greet them and, once the plane was moored, he’d led the women to a closed dining room generally reserved for small, private parties. At his insistence, they had accepted his offer of drinks but had declined any food, stating that his providing them with an impromptu meeting room on such short notice was imposition enough. Alexandre had smiled and shrugged then left the room until his current reappearance.

  “Anyhow, it’s probably a good idea to eat something,” said Leslie. “We may be having a late dinner so, thank you, Alexandre.”

  “My pleasure,” Alex replied. “As I said, I’m always ready to help my friends.” He eyed the women seated around the table and added, “I must ask because you ladies seem troubled. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “Maybe there is,” Leslie replied suddenly. “Would you have a boat we could rent?”

  “Why would you need to rent a boat?” Alexandre asked. “Sandy and Chris already own a whole fleet.”

  “Uh, some of the girls want to do a bit of fishing later,” Sandy quickly replied, “And I told them you had some nice bass boats.”

  Alexandre gazed from one woman to the next for a moment then replied, “If you say so. I’ll have a boat gassed up and waiting whenever you’re ready to go.”

  He moved to the door to leave but stopped before opening it and turned to face the table. “I’m not sure what the problem is, ladies, but I’ll mind my own business. However, if I can help you with anything, please do let me know, okay Sandy?”

  “Oui, Alex,” Sandy replied. “I will. Merci beaucoup.”

  He nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

  “Okay, we’ve got a boat at our disposal,” Sandy announced, looking sheepish. “I hate having to lie to Alex. He’s been a great friend since we moved here and he knows something is up. He caught me off guard with his ‘boat fleet’ comment.”

  “Sorry, Sandy,” said Leslie. “It just dawned on me that having a boat at our disposal could be useful but I asked that without thinking.”

  “I would have done the same,” Sandy replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll patch this up with Alex later. We’ve got other things to deal with for now.”

  “But do you trust him to stay clear?” asked Leslie. “I don’t want anyone trying to get involved without our knowledge and screwing something up or getting hurt.”

  “Like I said, we’ve known him since we moved here,” Sandy replied. “He’s a good man and true to his word so he won’t meddle without telling me. One thing I can say is, if we do end up needing any help, I wouldn’t hesitate to turn to him or his brother, Serge, who owns the pub. They’re local boys with lots of family and friends. They have hearts of gold but are a bit rough around the edges.”

  Leslie nodded. “We’ll keep that in mind then. Do you think they could help us get guns?”

  “Probably,” said Sandy. “They’re both hunters, but we’d have to tell them a lot more about what’s going on.”

  “I get you,” Leslie replied. “I’m just considering our options. Next, we’re going to need some place to stay, to take cover or crash while we work this out. Are there any motels, B&Bs, anyplace you can think of on your side of the lake? The closer to your place, the better though we’re probably going to have to find a car too.”

  “Damn, my head’s not working right with all of this,” Sandy muttered. “Our neighbours, just north of us, are in Europe for the month. They left me their keys. I’ve been watering their plants and keeping an eye on things. We could have gone directly there if I’d thought of it. They have a dock and everything.”

  “Perfect,” said Leslie. “Is your neighbour a hunter, by chance? I’m still thinking easy access to guns.”

  Sandy shook her head. “Sorry. He fishes but he doesn’t hunt.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Leslie replied. “What about access to your place from your neighbour’s home? Are there any fences or walls separating the two properties?”

  “Nope,” said Sandy. “Just a wooded area going from one lot to the next. It’s enough for privacy but not a problem to get through. There are even a couple of trails running through the woods.”

  “We’ll want to keep our eyes open in case some of these idiots are patrolling in there,” said Cathy.

  “Yes, we will,” Leslie agreed. “In fact, let’s hope they are. I’m all for eliminating a few of these bastards one at a time. We’ll likely have to go in there blind at some point to put an end to this so the smaller the crowd remaining, the better.”

  “Oh, shit,” Sandy exclaimed, suddenly fumbling in her purse.

  “What is it?” asked Josée.

  “We’re not blind. We can see what’s going on,” said Sandy as she pulled out her phone. “We can access the security system receiver via internet. That’s what Chris meant when he mentioned videos.”

  “Your husband is brilliant,” Josée murmured as they crowded around Sandy who scrolled through the menu, found the appropriate icon then entered a password.

  “Here we go,” she announced, working the menu to move from one live camera to the next, the images showing some intruders in various rooms of the house but not the three captives.

  “Do these feeds go to a security company?” asked Cathy.

  Sandy shook her head. “That would be an open invitation to voyeurism. Only Chris and I have the access code.”

  “Wouldn’t these guys see the cameras?” asked Dominique.

  “No, they’re tiny things and not obvious,” Sandy replied, still scanning the cameras in search of their husbands. “Oh, look. They’re in the dining room.”

  They stared at the small screen on which they could see Chris, Dave and Jon bound to their chairs. One of the intruders, a lanky man with a ponytail, was seated across
from them and speaking while another large man sat off to one side, glaring at the prisoners. A third leaned against the wall beyond the dining table.

  “Can we hear what they’re saying?” asked Cathy as she saw her husband talking.

  Sandy replied with another shake of the head. “It’s video surveillance only. We have cameras but no mikes.”

  As they watched, the man who had been speaking rose to his feet and crossed over to Dave then slapped him in the face with something a few times.

  “Leave him alone,” Cathy whispered, her voice trembling.

  On screen, the soundless verbal exchange they were witnessing suddenly turned physical again as Dave’s aggressor stepped back and kicked him in the chest, knocking the chair backwards to the floor.

  “You bastard!” Cathy hissed as her eyes filled with tears.

  Leaping over the chair, the man dropped down, kneeling on Dave’s chest or neck while he spoke. After delivering another blow and more verbal exchange, he rose to his feet and turned toward Jonathan, cuffing him on the back of the head before stomping out of the room. The large man moved over to Dave, yanked his chair back to an upright position then returned to his seat, slapping the back of Jonathan’s head in passing.

  “That son of a bitch is mine,” Cathy vowed with fire in her eyes.

  They continued watching the screen with lumps in their throats as they gazed at the three captives. When it became clear after a moment that, however temporarily, the action was over, Leslie spoke.

  “Let’s get going. We’ve got work to do.”

  Chapter 7 – Saturday - 3:50 p.m.

  While the level of rowdiness was increasing in the Barry home as the thirteen uninvited guests indulged in the available stock of beer, wine and liquor, the atmosphere in the dining room where the captives were being held remained quiet to date, barring Butch’s earlier blow-up.

  Looking to provoke their captors as little as possible, Chris, Dave and Jonathan remained quiet, speaking only when spoken to and limiting their words to a bare minimum required to respond to their captors’ satisfaction.

  Though Butch had suggested Ape take a break from guard duty to roam the property and have some fun, the thug had refused, preferring to sit and glare at Jonathan while imbibing a regular stream of alcoholic beverages. Since the home invasion had begun, under two hours earlier, he’d had half a dozen beers before reverting to a bottle of Appleton Estate rum he had returned with following a bathroom break.

  “You think you’re hot shit, asshole?” he suddenly slurred at Jonathan.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jonathan replied.

  Ape took a swig from his bottle then set it down with a thud before rising to his feet and taking a couple of unsteady steps toward Jon.

  “You think you’re fuckin’ better than me?” he demanded, raising his tone.

  “Just sit back down and enjoy your drink, buddy,” Jonathan replied, maintaining a neutral tone.

  “Are you fuckin’ giving me orders, asshole?” Ape yelled, taking another wavering step closer.

  “What the hell is going on here?” asked Butch as he swaggered in from the kitchen, attracted by the commotion.

  “This asshole is pissing me off,” Ape snapped, “And I’m gonna kick his ass.”

  Jonathan chuckled. “I didn’t say or do anything.”

  “What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Ape demanded, his anger increasing. “You laughing at me?”

  Shaking his head, Jonathan looked up at Butch and said, “I think the only way we can calm your monkey down is to let him have a go at me.”

  Butch smiled and said, “You’re shitting me, right?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “It’s what he wants. Now, my only question is, would this be done fairly or is he a pussy who would beat on me while I’m duct-taped to a chair?”

  “Did you call me a pussy?” Ape screamed, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet as his pressure mounted.

  “Calm down, Ape,” Butch ordered before turning back to Jonathan. “So you’re saying you want to fight him?”

  “What I’m saying is, he wants to beat on me so we might as well get it over with because this is getting old,” Jon replied. “I’m just wondering if he’s a man or a wuss.”

  Butch grinned and looked at Ape who now shook with rage as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “What do you say, Ape? Are you a man or a wuss?”

  “Untie the fucker,” Ape snarled. “I’m gonna rip off his head, shove it up his ass and kick it back up to his throat.”

  Butch pulled out a switchblade and turned to Jonathan. “Remember, this was your idea. It was nice knowing you, Jon.”

  “No hard feelings if I hurt him, agreed?” said Jonathan.

  Butch laughed as he started cutting the bindings. “You’re a riot, buddy but, yeah, whatever happens, we’ll still be friends.”

  While he finished freeing Jonathan, Butch ordered Ape and Willy, another of the crew, to move the dining room table to one side, clearing the centre of the room for the upcoming brawl. A handful of crew members who had been drinking and eating in the kitchen had now moved closer, looking forward to a bit of violent entertainment.

  Free of his restraints, Jonathan rose to his feet, shaking his arms and legs a bit to loosen up his muscles. Though in peak physical condition, the five foot nine, fifty-eight year old appeared an unlikely danger to the six foot plus, two hundred thirty pound gorilla awaiting him. Jon’s attire of t-shirt, swimming trunks and canvas deck shoes did little to improve the image.

  Ape, who was anticipating the upcoming fight with relish, had even calmed down some and stood grinning at his soon-to-be victim before him.

  “Just to show you I’m not a pussy,” he said, “I’ll let you go for it first. Whenever you’re ready, ya little twat.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Your fight, your rules.”

  No sooner had he uttered the words that his foot lashed out, catching Ape squarely in the groin. As he doubled over, Jonathan clasped his hands behind the big man’s head and yanked him down hard to meet his rising knee. Pulling Ape’s head back up by his long, stringy hair, he repeated the motion two more times, each knee blow more vicious than the preceding one. He then twisted Ape’s head with an audible crack and shoved him away before stepping back, less than ten seconds after the fight had started.

  “Holy crap,” Butch exclaimed as he stared down at the motionless body with its now deformed, blood-covered face. “Someone check him to see if he’s okay.”

  “Don’t waste your time,” said Jonathan as he sat back on his chair and got in position for the inevitable duct-taping. “He’s dead.”

  “You killed him?” said Butch, somewhat in a daze.

  “I didn’t have any choice. It was him or me,” replied Jonathan. “You can’t with argue that, can you?”

  Butch thought for a moment then nodded. “You’ve got a point. I guess he was losing his touch after all.”

  Jonathan gazed at the handful of crew members watching on expectantly and added, “So, we’re good, right?”

  “Yeah, right. No hard feelings,” Butch replied then looked toward his men. “Willy, tape my friend back up here. He’s a dangerous bastard. Nose and Razor, get Ape outta here. Dumb fuck ain’t no use to me anymore.”

  Chapter 8 – Saturday - 3:57 p.m.

  Assigned to keep an eye on their captives since they had arrived, Willy was relieved when Butch told him to go and have some fun while he kept their hosts company. After grabbing another beer in the kitchen, he headed out on the terrace where a couple of his associates were grilling burgers while a few others were messing around in the pool.

  Fond of water sports, he peered toward the dock and was pleased to see that both Sea-Doos were moored. He had jet-skied on a few occasions in the past and just loved the feeling of rushing over the water on the compact crafts. Clad in cut-off jeans, he kicked of his running shoes and stripped off his t-shirt then hurried down to the dock.

  The key was alre
ady in the ignition of the closest Sea-Doo when he reached the dock and he had the engine running and was casting off in seconds, tossing his empty beer bottle over his shoulder into the lake behind him as he roared away.

  * * * *

  “So, how are you gents doing?” Butch asked as he pulled up a chair in front of his captives.

  “This isn’t quite the day we had planned,” Chris replied, “But we’re taking things in stride.”

  “Yeah, I guess we kinda screwed up your schedule and stuff,” replied Butch, almost apologetically, “But my guys work hard for me all year and I owe it to them to have a great summer vacation.”

  “Did you ever consider taking them to DisneyLand?” asked Jonathan, “Or maybe just a water-park or a movie?”

  Butch laughed and replied, “I like you Jon. We come in here and tie you up then you almost get killed by Ape and you still have a sense of humour.”

  “Yeah, Jon’s a riot,” said Chris. “You should hear him when he’s not being held prisoner.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Chris,” Butch replied. “I’ve got a feeling you’re pretty funny too. I’m not sure about Dave here though. He’s pretty quiet and looks dead serious. Everything okay, buddy?”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” Dave replied.

  “I’m thinking you’re pissed off at me for slugging you before,” said Butch, “And I’m sorry about that. I have a bit of a short fuse and expect people to play straight with me. I’ve gotta be tough to keep these guys in line. I’m sure you understand that.”

  “I can imagine they’re a handful,” replied Dave.

  “Oh, they’re rowdy bastards alright,” Butch agreed. “Being a cop, I’m sure they’re just the type you like to take into a back room and beat the crap out of.”

  “That’s not the kind of cop I am,” Dave disagreed.

  “What do you mean?” asked Butch. “You’re not the kind of cop that deals with low-lives like me and the boys? Only fancy white collar criminals are good enough for you?”