The continuation. Plot gets deeper...
Content: Some (minor) language and innuendo. PG rating, I think.
This has not been beta'd. Read at your own peril.
Nat a.k.a. Cielita
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jonny grinned, thinking of the soaking he and Hadji would give Stacey and
Jessie. Once they *found* the other two, anyway. They had to be somewhere in
the parking lot; everyone had decided from the start that the game was to stay
in the lot. The other two must have gone toward the back, then.
Hadji tapped him on the shoulder. “Jonny, perhaps we should refill our water
pistols and think of a more feasible strategy.”
Jonny nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. They’re probably there already.”
The boys jogged toward the back of the stores. As they reached the corner, they
paused, watching for the other two.
To their surprise, however, the back end of the shopping lot was empty.
“Dang it, where ARE they?” Jonny howled, kicking at the ground in his
frustration.
Hadji was unruffled, as usual. “Be still,” he whispered, trying to think.
“We’re not gonna get anything done just by standing around,” Jonny pointed out.
“‘Our patience will achieve more than our force,’” Hadji quoted,* adopting the
serene, sagacious expression he knew would annoy his brother.
Jonny scowled. “Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “How?”
A flash of movement in his peripheral vision caught Hadji’s eye. “Look, Jonny.
Over there, behind the Dumpster,” he whispered, pointing.
Jonny had seen it, too. “So that’s where they’re hiding.” The boys shared a
look and a grin, then silently crept towards the Dumpster.
Coming closer, they saw an unfamiliar figure bending over and hefting a limp
person over his – or her – shoulder.
They gaped at each other in alarm, then snuck closer to the Dumpster. They
watched the bulky figure carry the person to a waiting car, walk back toward
the Dumpster, and pick up a water pistol.
Jonny jumped up and ran back to the front, much to Hadji’s surprise. He
reappeared several seconds later on his hoverboard, with Hadji’s board in hand.
Hadji took his board, activated it, and hopped on, just in time to follow the
Mercedes as it roared out of the parking lot.
Jonny pushed his hoverboard to top speed. Hadji kept up easily; he must have
had more practice at hoverboarding than he let on, Jonny realized.
“Do you not think it would be wise to notify the police or your father?” Hadji
questioned, watching the speeding car.
Jonny breezily dismissed the question. “OUR father, Hadj. And there isn’t
enough time. And anyway, Dad ‘n Race would kill us if they knew we were here.”
“But then again, if we were to be killed now, our father’s reaction would no
longer be of any concern to us,” Hadji countered.
Jonny looked at him, a corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. “Okay, that’s
enough outta you, Captain Bringdown.” He shifted his weight, propelling his
board forward. “We gotta save Jessie and Stacey.”
As much as he might have outwardly protested, Hadji inwardly agreed.
The driver of the Mercedes must have been drunk, blind, crazy, or a combination
of the three. The car tore down Wolfeboro’s Main Street and zoomed onto Route
28, weaving slightly. The boys had only gone half a mile when they realized
that following the car was not only difficult at 75 miles per hour, it was also
dangerous. Letting the Mercedes fade into the distance, they drifted to the
side of the highway and stopped.
Jonny felt his frustration rise painfully in his throat and prick at his eyes.
“Now what?” he asked.
Hadji watch the Mercedes speed away, then turned dark, worried eyes on his best
friend and adopted brother. “I do not know.”
* * *
Jessie could have sworn that her brain had just sloshed inside her skull. That
was bad, wasn’t it? At any rate, it served to magnify her already-spectacular
headache.
Groaning slightly, she batted at the hand that was shaking her vigorously.
“Yes, master. She is aliiiiiive,” a raspy voice intoned.
Her heavy eyelids migrated upward. A pair of silver eyes swam lazily into view
above her. She blinked at them owlishly.
“Good. I was getting worried,” Stacey said, this time in his regular voice.
“Yeah, I could tell by the way you were doing bad monster-movie impressions,”
Jessie returned wanly. “Can you do Bela Lugosi?”
Glancing around, she realized that they were in the spacious black leather
backseat of a car that was traveling a bit more quickly than she was
comfortable with. A tinted glass partition separated the front seats from the
back, so she couldn’t see the driver. Stacey was sitting behind the passenger
seat, and she was sprawled across the entire backseat…
With her head resting in Stacey’s lap.
With a small gasp, Jessie struggled to sit up. To her horror, she found she
couldn’t get upright. Stacey casually braced his arm around her back and helped
her into a sitting position. Fighting a slight rush of dizziness, she scrambled
to the opposite side of the car. Stacey looked on, his brows knitted in concern.
“Just a little dizzy, that’s all. I just got up too fast,” Jessie stammered.
Stacey raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “That’s odd. I though that when you get
up too fast the blood rushes *away* from your face,” he remarked.
Jessie ducked her head and shrugged, mentally cursing herself. “So, uh, how
long was I out?” She asked, trying to regain her equilibrium.
“About six minutes, by your watch.”
“My watch…” murmured Jessie. “My watch!”
“Yes…”
Jessie quickly unfastened her personalized digital watch, pushed two buttons,
then put it back on with a grin. “It has a distress call and a tracker. It’ll
send a signal to Jonny and Hadji’s watches, they’ll be able to find us,” she
explained.
“Ah. Very useful. Especially since I couldn’t find a way for us to get out of
this car and find help.”
“We could jump the guy when he comes back here and opens the door,” Jessie
mused.
“Provided that he doesn’t have a gun, yes,” Stacey replied. “We could do that.”
“Okay, then.”
A silence settled over the backseat. Jessie shifted uncomfortably. Stacey
hummed a small tune to himself, then spoke.
“A month.”
Jessie blinked. “What?”
“A month. Or two. That’s how long we’ll all be grounded for this.”
Jessie didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. She settled on hyperventilating
for a few moments before choking out, “You’re crazy.”
Stacey raised a sardonic brow. “What else would you expect from a small-town
boy? This is the most excitement I’ve had since the time I tried to hotwire
that school bus.”
That did it. Jessie’s overworked lungs collapsed into explosive laughter,
tinged with hysteria. Remembering their captor up front, she clasped her hands
over her mouth and attempted to stifle the laughter, but only succeeding in
letting out an unladylike snort. Stacey blinked, then convulsed with laughter.
Trying to keep the noise to a minimum, they guffawed and gasped and groaned,
tears rolling down their cheeks.
Their laughter ceased, however, when the car came to a stop and the engine cut
off. The driver’s door opened, then slammed shut. Exchanging a quick look,
Stacey and Jessie dove into a crouching position at either door. Slow, heavy
footsteps approached, then paused. Jessie’s door opened. She lashed out with a
front kick to their captor’s crotch. As he doubled over, she kicked him in the
face as hard as she could. He crumpled to the ground and lay motionless, his
hand still clutching the water pistol he had taken from them earlier. Without a
word, the two teenagers scurried out of the car.
Stacey plucked the water pistol from the unconscious man’s grip, then turned to
Jessie, raising his eyebrows. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
Jessie waved the comment away with a slight smile. “C’mon, we need to get outta
here.”
The car had been parked in front of a detached three-car garage. The garage was
located at the bottom of a hill, in the midst of a wooded area. A long driveway
sloped up the hill, passing by the mansion that lounged on the crest and
gradually fading out of sight. The mansion, an attractive red-brick number, was
also densely surrounded by trees. Privacy was obviously an issue of importance
to the owner of the house.
The two teens started to run up the driveway–
Then stopped and put their hands up as four armed men emerged from behind the
garage with a “Freeze! Drop the gun!”
The water pistol clattered onto the ground. Water dribbled out of its battered
compartment.
Two of the men exchanged a look and shrugged slightly. Another bent and picked
the pistol up. The fourth man motioned toward the mansion. “Move,” he commanded.
Stepping over the prone form of the Mercedes driver, Jessie and Stacey,
accompanied by the four men, made their way to the mansion. As they entered the
sliding back door, they were hustled into spacious, tastefully decorated living
room.
“Sit,” the same man ordered, gesturing at one of three white couches arranged
in a three-sided rectangle.
Stacey grinned. “Wow. Two whole words. Aren’t we articulate tonight?”
Jessie slapped his arm in warning. The man moved closer, cocking his gun. “Sit
down and shut up,” he growled.
“Alright, alright.” Stacey allowed Jessie to pull him down to a sitting
position on the couch. “Touchy,” he said in an aside to her.
“Shut up,” she hissed.
One of the guards pushed open one of the double doors at the side of the living
room and slipped through. The door closed behind him with a resolute click. The
other three stayed where they were, their trigger fingers waiting for a false
move from either of the teens.
Jessie took the time to study their surroundings. The three couches had been
arranged around a glass coffee table, on top of which rested a vase of Japanese
irises. The couches and coffee table sat on a Persian rug, which covered most
of a white tiled floor. A black grand piano reclined sedately in the corner of
the room, next to the wide, floor-to-ceiling Venetian blinds carefully
shielding massive windows. The sliding door through which they had just come
was tucked in the center of the back wall, in the midst of the windows.
The entire room had been gracefully, and expensively, decorated with a few
paintings and sculptures. In front of the couch on which they sat, across the
coffee table, was a fireplace ensconced in white, surrounded by built-in
glass-front cabinets filled with books and compact discs. Jessie eyed the books
with interest. She noticed that the owner of the house was an avid fan of
Joseph Heller, Kurt Vonnegut, and Thomas Pynchon. She blinked as she recognized
a copy of _The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe_ shoved in among them.
There was a doorway located next to the fireplace and cabinets, and through it
Jessie glimpsed an impressive foyer just before Hadji and Jonny entered. She
opened her mouth to greet them, but stopped as she saw two armed guards follow
them, guns at the ready.
Stacey grinned at the boys. “That didn’t take you too long,” he commented.
“We got Jessie’s distress call and tracked it,” Jonny explained.
“Sit,” ordered one of the guards, motioning toward the couch with his gun. The
other guard went through the same double doors the previous one did.
Jonny and Hadji sat down, exchanging looks with Jessie and Stacey.
One of the double doors opened. “Please, come in!” a rich tenor voice called
from the other room.
“‘“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the spider to the fly,’” muttered
Stacey.** The other three grinned.
The four teenagers were ushered into a cool, well-lit, spacious office. Like
the rest of the house, the office exuded quiet, elegant wealth, which was
reflected in the gleaming mahogany desk and lush blue carpet. A stereo, some
plants, and a few bookcases, stuffed with books, lined the walls. Five plush
black leather chairs sat facing the desk.
The handsome man seated behind the desk watched them with intelligent hazel
eyes that gleamed with ill-concealed humor. His glossy chestnut hair had been
neatly combed back, except for the unruly lock that fell over his forehead,
giving him a rakish look. He appeared to be in his mid- to late-thirties.
“Hello,” he greeted them. “My security staff informed me of intruders on the
premises, but I did not realize that they were so young.” He motioned toward
the leather chairs. “Please, have a seat.”
The four warily moved to the chairs and sat down. The man got up and moved
around his desk. He shook hands with each teenager. “I am Rupert Ulrico. How do
you do?”
“Hey,” Stacey replied. Then before anyone could stop him, “I’m Stacey Ferguson.
This is Jessie Bannon, Jonny Quest, and Hadji Singh.”
Jonny glared at him.
“What? Just trying to be friendly,” he protested. Jonny shook his head.
Ulrico leaned against his desk, ankles crossed and hands clasped in front of
him. He studied them for a few moments, his striking face full of curious
concern. “What are you doing up so late?” he inquired.
Jonny studied the man, who was dressed in a fitted business suit. “We could ask
you the same thing – sir,” he hastily appended.
Jessie, tired, slightly peevish, and sore from the evening’s indignities, had
no such concerns about being polite. “Why’d you bring us here?”
Ulrico shook his head and spread his hands. “To tell you the truth, miss, I am
uncertain of that myself. I was expecting a client from Chicago.”
Stacey had no concerns about being polite either, which was normal for him.
“It’s a quarter to one. Who does business at this hour?”
Ulrico smiled, amused. “I do, apparently. My client is also, ah, an old friend
of mine. Her flight came in–” he checked his Jaeger LeCoultre watch. “Fifteen
minutes ago. I am providing her with a place to stay for the three days she’ll
be here.”
Stacey grinned wolfishly. “Oh, okay. I see. You’re all dressed up for your ‘old
friend.’”
“Stacey!” Hadji admonished him.
Stacey shrugged, unashamed. Then he turned back to Ulrico. “So, you got some
nice digs here. What do you do, and can I do it with you when I get older?”
Ulrico blinked, then chuckled. “Why, thank you. I’m the head of a private
shipping service. I provide swift and convenient transportations of goods for
businesses. My office is in Dover. And, I am sorry to say, I am currently not
accepting applications for employment.”
Jessie wasn’t buying it. “So why’d your toady kidnap Stacey and me?”
Ulrico frowned. “That is precisely what I’m trying to understand. My, ah,
‘toady’ must have made some mistake, but I don’t know what would lead him to
*kidnap* you. Where were you, exactly?”
“We were all at the Shipley Shopping Center, sir,” Hadji replied.
He looked at them quizzically. “At a quarter to one?”
The four teenagers shared a sheepish look. Jonny finally spoke up. “Well, we
were kinda… playing a game, Mr. Ulrico.”
He lifted a refined eyebrow. “What kind of game?”
Jonny, Jessie, and Hadji looked at Stacey. Stacey looked back at them
innocently, raised his hands in a “can you blame me?” gesture, and said,
“Pan-Galactic Water Warriors.”
Ulrico’s other eyebrow leapt up and joined its companion in the middle of his
forehead. “Pan-Galactic…?”
Jessie jumped in, wanting to avoid the imminent confusion. “It’s a water game
that we play with water pistols…” she trailed off, feeling very much like an
idiot.
He looked at the four shamefaced teenagers for a moment, rubbed his jaw, then
burst into laughter. “We must all have our kicks, no? I think I see now. Were
you two – the ones who were ‘kidnapped’ – where you two anywhere near the
Dumpster, perchance?”
“Yeah, right by it,” Jessie responded, puzzled.
“Hmm… I have my employee deposit my trash at the Dumpster in the Shopping
Center; I live in the middle of nowhere, as you might have guessed, so there is
no weekly trash pickup. My employee was to deposit the trash on the way to the
airport.
“I saw your water pistol when my guards brought it to me. It is remarkably
lifelike. I think Benson panicked at the sight of you two… but to go as far as
kidnap you…? I don’t understand why…” he trailed off, contemplating, then
abruptly waved away his musings. “No matter. I will reprimand him later. But
first, I will call your parents and then have you returned home. It’s the least
I can do. They most likely have no idea where you are.”
“Well, you think you could just drop us off without calling our parents?
They’re probably still asleep,” Jonny ventured.
The stern gaze Ulrico turned on them was enough to make them squirm in their
comfortable leather seats. “But then again, they are probably awake and ripping
their hair out by the roots. If my driver simply appeared with you kids, I’m
sure people would start asking questions. In addition to that, my client is
stranded at Laconia Airport until my other driver gets there, and there
certainly won’t make a very good impression on her.” All four kids hung their
heads. “Now, I need your parents’ names and telephone numbers so I can contact
them, let them know their kids are safe and on the way.
“In the meantime, you will be escorted to a guest bedroom, where you can make
use of the television, stereo, and bathroom. We’ll get this whole mess
straightened soon.”
* * *
Lynn Elton fidgeted. She did not consider herself psychic, but she was
definitely getting some bad vibes about tonight. Never mind the fact that this
was her first Real Sting. Yes, she had some jitters, but she also had the
smallest nagging feeling that something was not quite right.
The first chill had raced down her spine when she found that her partner Doug
Bates had gotten into a car accident – *today* of all days – so instead of
being here with her, he was hanging out at the hospital with a broken leg and
concussion. That had put a real crimp in their plans, to say the least, until
Captain Cal Nordquist had decided to fill in his place. Lynn, being a sensible
woman, had some doubts as to whether Ulrico would accept the sudden change, but
Cal had insisted that they go on. They’d spent all this time setting up the
sting, he said. No sense putting it off and losing a golden opportunity. And
Cal was the Captain. She was just a bit concerned, however, about his tendency
to go off half-cocked and jump into situations without thinking. This situation
was a classic case study. The only reason she didn’t kick off a bigger fuss
about this was because Cal had a good track record – and some kick-ass
intuition when it came to busting criminals.
However, the chill tap-dancing on her spinal column had settled into her
stomach when they arrived at the agreed meeting place – twenty minutes late, to
boot – and found it deserted.
They’d been waiting by the Dumpster for forty-five minutes. The boys in tech
van were getting antsy. She didn’t blame them for that, but she definitely did
not appreciate the numerous fetus jokes she’d been hearing over the small
two-way transmitter tucked in her ear for the past half-hour.
Cal rolled his eyes at Eli Tucker’s latest joke and checked his watch again.
“This isn’t going anywhere,” he muttered.
“So… now what?” Lynn wanted to know.
Cal narrowed his eyes in thought. “Ulrico won’t come to us, so we go to him.”
Lynn blinked. “What?”
Cal shrugged. A hint of belligerent defensiveness crept into his voice. “I’m
just saying that we know where the guy lives, and we got evidence. I say we
raid his house and get this over with!”
The transmitter devices squawked.
“Say WHAT?!”
“What’s he talking about?”
“Crazy mo-fo! What does he think he’s doing?!”
“Careful, boys. This crazy mo-fo can hear you,” Cal reminded them.
“Cal, we need a search warrant in order to do that,” Lynn said patiently,
inwardly wondering if he had gone crazy.
“And I’ve got one right here.” He snapped open the smart leather briefcase he
had brought with him and withdrew a sheet of paper, waving it in front of her
briefly before putting it away.
Lynn gaped at him. “You went out and got a search warrant?”
He shrugged, turned, and strode back towards their rented Acura. “Contingency
planning. Come on.”
The chill in her stomach formed a tight, hard knot as she felt the carefully
planned sting spinning out of control. Cal was going off half-cocked again, in
five different directions. Her voice was deceptively calm as she asked, “You
did this without telling me? Or any of us?”
“Jesus, Nordquist, what the hell you think you’re *doing*?” That was from
Tucker.
“You screw this up, and it’s all our asses on the line!” agreed Sebastian
Talavera.
“You want to get this guy or not?” Cal snapped.
The squalling from the transmitters settled into uneasy grumbles.
“Oh, good god,” Lynn muttered. “This is insane.”
Cal had reached the car. Getting into the driver’s side, he looked back at her
expectantly. “Come on, Lynn.”
Mentally cursing the whole situation, Lynn followed him, getting into the
passenger seat. Her mother always told her that a smart person saw trouble
coming and headed the other way.
Well, obviously, she wasn’t too bright.
*From Edmund Burke’s _Reflections on the Revolution in France._ Found at
www.quoteland.com.
** From the poem “The Spider and the Fly,” by Mary Howitt.
