The Hostage (20 page)

“Why did … my nose … broken,” he said with a nasally voice.

“We are out of precious time. Where is Drake?”

The guy had a hard accent. Central Europe. Romania or Hungary. What would he want with Drake?

Elmore stepped back and leaned against the wall. His vision hadn’t cleared and his equilibrium wavered. He wasn’t sure if he could remain standing. The pain was overwhelming.

“Look, Elmore,” the old man shouted. “The police just announced that they were on their way here. Sarah Roberts is coming with them to examine your photo studio, because they believe this is where you fled with Drake. I’m thinking we have two, maybe three minutes before they arrive. Tell me where you have left Drake and I will make it easy for you.”

The pit in Elmore’s stomach grew. It was truly over. There was nothing he could do now. It could take them a week to locate his car parked blocks away. By then, Drake would be dead. His final act would be to never reveal where Drake remained hidden.

He smiled at the old man and said, “Fuck you,” blood spitting out with his words.

The old man leveled his weapon and fired. Elmore fell, unable to hold himself up on one leg. Momentarily, the pain in his face forgotten, he wiped his eyes and looked at his ruined knee. The bullet had entered the top of his right knee. The bottom of his leg sat at an odd angle.

The old man standing over him showed nothing on his face like sorrow, shame or guilt. He stared at Elmore with anger and the will to continue shooting.

The pain in his leg amplified with each breath. Elmore vomited twice before he got his breathing under control. Blood still ran down the front of his face, and now it seeped through his pant leg.

“Last time. Where’s Drake? No more chances.”

Elmore stared at the two men, stunned. How did it come to this? Who were these people? What had he gotten himself mixed up in?

He opened his mouth to answer, but realized that he’d waited too long. The old man had brought his weapon up again and pulled the trigger as Elmore shouted for him to stop.

The bullet punched his other leg. Aghast, Elmore stared at the hole where his other knee had once been. He threw up again, but not much came as his stomach was empty. Vomit mixed with the blood from his nose.

I’m going to die here.

The old man knelt down by his head. “My friend here wants to call you an ambulance. You won’t die from these wounds if you’re taken to a hospital quickly. I’ve heard they can do wonders with artificial knees nowadays. The other option is, you continue to refuse my request and I will be forced to use the next bullet on your eye hole. So, decision time — bullet in the eye, or ambulance?”

Elmore didn’t have to think long. “Ambu … lance,” he managed to say through the blood entering his mouth.

“Good choice. Then where is Drake?”

“In my car,” Elmore said and reached into his pocket for his keys. His legs shifted with the movement and he winced and moaned. The brute in the long coat ripped the keys from his hand.

“Where’s your car?” The question came out as a solid order.

“Two blocks from here. By the road construction … jackhammers.”

The pain took over. All he felt was pain. His thoughts were scattered. What was happening? What would life be like now?

The old man said something about waiting for Sarah. Park the car on Queen Street. Wait there. They would murder her and Drake as soon as they got out of the area.

At least Sarah will finally be dead,
Elmore thought
.

He lay back, his head sliding down the wall and bumping off the baseboard until it landed on the tiled floor. An odd thought struck him about the day he tiled the floor and how the first girl he kidnapped had walked in, a modeling portfolio under her arm. She had glowed in the sunshine. His first sex slave.

Memories, what memories.

Something covered his vision. He forced his eyes open to see what was happening. The old man had brought the gun up in front of his face.

Did he have more questions?

He heard the gun go off, but he couldn’t see anything anymore. More pain entered his consciousness. His body convulsed. He tried to shout but nothing came out.

In the distance, he heard another crack of the gun.

Chapter 35

Spencer raced down Queen Street and parked along the curb. Sarah’s stomach growled at the sight of the Korean restaurant on the left and Indian restaurant on the right.

“We’ll leave the car here and walk to the studio. Parkman, we’ve got dozens of uniforms within one block waiting for me to give the okay to move in.” He turned to Sarah. “This is almost over. We’ll get Drake out. He’s my friend too.”

They all got out and started down the busy street. Pedestrians clogged the sidewalk. The threesome had to separate and walk around people at times. It wasn’t until they turned down Duncan Street that they got away from the bustling activity on Queen Street.

At the corner of the building that housed the photo studio, Spencer slowed and peeked around. He turned back to Parkman and Sarah.

“No car in the lane.”

He stepped out into the open and walked along the alley to the photo studio’s door, where he stood against the wall to the right. Parkman walked over and stood on the left. Sarah stayed back by the entrance to the alley.

Spencer tried the door. It was locked. She was close enough to hear him radio someone who had been set up to watch the front of the building.

“Nothing. No movement your way,” she heard through the small speaker.

The two cops walked around to the front and tried two other doors. Everything locked up tight. No way in.

“It doesn’t look like anybody’s here,” Spencer said. “Maybe they didn’t even come this way. Fuck.” He slammed his fist into his palm. He turned to Sarah. “Is there somewhere else you feel he could’ve taken Drake?”

Sarah shook her head. “Nothing.”

I could really use your help here, Vivian.

“Maybe we need to get to the airport,” Spencer suggested.

His radio crackled.

“Spencer, go ahead.”

“Elmore Ackerman’s vehicle has been located two blocks from your location.”

“Okay, watch the vehicle and call me if anyone approaches it. Otherwise, wait for my call.”

Spencer put the radio away.

“He’s here,” he said to Parkman and Sarah. “I’d bet on it now. We’re going in.”

Spencer knocked on the studio door. Parkman took up a position beside the door and waited. After no one answered, Spencer knocked again and shouted, “Police, open up!”

No answer. Spencer stepped back, aimed his revolver at the locked door handle and fired twice. The knob shattered and the door popped an inch.

Spencer pointed at Sarah to hang back. He motioned to Parkman to follow him and counted down to three with his fingers. Then he kicked the door and rushed in, his gun at the ready. Parkman followed.

Two uniformed cops turned the corner behind Sarah.

“They’re in there,” she said and pointed at the open door.

“We know. He asked us to get you out of the alley.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sarah asked. “Well then, we can wait until he comes out and asks me himself.”

No way I’m just walking away with ‘cops’ anymore.

“No, you’re to be moved to the end of the alley. Let’s go.”

The cop grabbed her arm and started to lead her away. She snapped her arm out of his grip and stepped back.

“Ever since I’ve been in Toronto,” Sarah said, the anger rising like a tide of boiling water. “Cops have been touching me and telling me what to do. Now I’m getting pissed.” She stared at each man and said, “Touch me again. I dare you. Just one more time.”

The police had been ordered to stay back. If Spencer had brought her this far, he would’ve stepped out of the building to make a request of her. These guys were not who they said they were.

The one who’d grabbed her arm pulled out a weapon so fast, she didn’t have time to call out Spencer or Parkman.

He stepped into her, placed the weapon’s tip to the underside of her chin and said, “A bullet will enter your brain if you call out. Any wrong move and you’ll die. The only thing that’ll keep you breathing for the next few minutes is to start walking. Now go.”

Chapter 36

The two cops walked Sarah to the end of the alley toward Queen Street. The sweat beading on her face wasn’t because of the hot sun, but her anger. She was sick and tired of people having the attitude that they could do whatever they wanted. No one person owned the world and no one owned Sarah.

She’d been lucky during the past five years, making it out of scrapes and staying alive with the help of her sister. But Vivian had told her nothing about Elmore or the two men on either side of her. She had no idea what to expect. She knew the men with her were more dangerous than average bad guys because of their carefree attitude. To wear Toronto police uniforms in public and snatch her not ten feet from Spencer and Parkman took balls. These two had no fear. She was sure if she had called out and Spencer or Parkman had stepped from the photo studio, one of the two men on each of her arms would’ve shot them.

Just before they broke the cover of the alley, the uniform with the gun holstered it. A car idled on the curb, its back door open.

She was out of options. She had to do something. Getting into that car meant death. Better to get shot outside the car, in public, than to enter the car and be executed miles away with no witnesses.

They shoved her toward the door. The man on her left moved away to walk around the back of the car to get in on the other side.

It was her last chance.

She made to enter the backseat and then dropped to one knee in front of the open door. She pivoted fast and swung her other leg into the back of the knee of the guy still with her. His knee shot forward, bumped the car door, and he dropped.

As he fell, Sarah lay down on her back and rolled under the car. She stopped rolling and slid her butt along until she was dead center of the chassis, the exhaust pipe two inches from her nose.

How does this shit always seem to happen?

Who were they? Did they work for Elmore? That couldn’t be possible. What Elmore did had to be kept to himself or he couldn’t have gotten away with it that long.

She looked left and right, rolling her head back and forth on the cement, searching for her aggressors’ feet.

The car jerked. Then the driver hit the gas. She turned her head sideways just in time. The edge of the muffler came within millimeters of tearing the top of her nose off.

Both fake cops stepped up and stood over her, guns drawn. No one in the street would question their authority. They were in uniform. They had weapons. Their person of interest had tried to flee. She had assaulted one of them. It would look justified to arrest her with this kind of force. She was all out of ideas.

She raised both hands and said, “Okay, take it easy. I’ll go quietly. Thought that might work. Who knew?”

“Shoot her in the face,” the uniform on the left whispered.

“Too many witnesses,” the other one said, frowning. “Just get her up and in the car.”

Vehicles continued to meander by on the street beside her, oblivious that she was being kidnapped in broad daylight on the downtown streets of Toronto with a heavy police presence less than a block away.

The last option she had was a bullet. She’d been shot before. She’d survive. Getting into that car was certain death. She felt it on every level of her soul. Being shot left options.

She got up and ready to rush them.

A small crowd of pedestrians walking by had stopped to watch the live action.

A man stared at her. He was at least six feet tall and it was quite evident that he worked out religiously. She pointed at him and shouted, “Help! These men are not cops. They’re trying to kidnap me!”

The man shook his head and started to walk away, just as Sarah had wanted. She would’ve been surprised if he stepped in to try to help.

The fake uniforms turned to see if he would do anything. Instead of rushing them, she ran five feet to the right and stepped into traffic. A small Nissan swerved to miss her, turning toward oncoming traffic. The car going the other way, veered to avoid a collision, but swerved toward Sarah.

She couldn’t get out of the way in time.

All she could do was jump. Her jump wasn’t high enough to clear the hood.

The vehicle had already slowed down. When her foot hit the top lip of the hood, her body rotated sideways as the windshield rushed up to make contact with her back. Four feet later the car stopped and Sarah flew off the hood and onto the sidewalk, rolling until she stopped face down.