Текст книги "Hope To Escape"

Автор книги: Jack Parker

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Slowly, recognition revealed to Ess that it was the man with the broken nose who was standing at the edge of her bed. He had a very annoyed look on his face, and when he spoke, his words seethed with his displeasure. "You were supposed to be ready when Angoli sent for you. You're getting off to a very bad start," he accused. "You'd better shape up if you don't want any trouble."

Ess just gave him an incredulous stare. She had agreed to nothing, and she didn't intend to, either. Did they seriously think she would simply obey? That she would comply with their perverse arrangements?

"You'll be too late for breakfast, now. I'll have to come back for you after Mr. Angoli takes care of his morning business. You'd better be ready by lunch, which he takes at precisely one o'clock." With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it with a noisy flourish so that Ess would be reminded of her prisoner status.

She got up, and dressed herself from the selection in the closet, choosing the most demure dress that covered as much of her skin as possible. Her shoes, while stylish, were sensible flats that would be relatively appropriate for running, should that opportunity arise.

Once prepared, she resumed her seat on the bed, and waited. The clock on the mantle ticked away, producing the only sound in the room. The constant rhythm began to drive her mad; and it became almost a relief when she finally heard the sound of her door being unlocked.

The man with the broken nose made another rude entrance into the room. "Boss is finishing up a few business details and asked me to escort you to the gallery." The word 'escort' came out as though the idea of doing so was the farthest thing from his bitter thoughts. The damage she had recently done to him seemed to remain at the forefront of his mind. Other than a little fear for what the man might be capable of, Ess really didn't care about his resentment. She wished she could pop him in the nose again.

Preferring to avoid any further rough handling, she reluctantly complied. While following him back down the broad staircase, she looked about in all directions for any possible breakout route, but noticed that he kept a close eye on her every movement. At the landing, he took a hold of her arm, and guided her (in as forceful a manner as he could get away with) down a hallway, and to another door. When he opened that door, he deposited her inside, and locked it behind her. Immediately, she began to scour the room for an alternative way out.

The windows in this room were not barred, but they were locked. The distance downward was not nearly as far as it had been from the bedroom, so Ess felt willing to take the risk. There were many objects in the room that could work effectively as a missile to break the glass, but as she picked up a small statuette, and wound up for the pitch, the door to the gallery opened.

Ess jumped and turned in the direction of the new occupant as he entered into the room. The man quickly took stock of the scene before him, and began to laugh.

"Good idea, my dear." He said through his amusement, "but those windows have alarm sensors. My guards would have caught you before you'd have been able to land on the ground. Nice try, though. Very admirable."

The man who spoke entered further into the gallery. His urbanely composed voice agitated Ess with its severe confidence of superiority. It was not simply superiority towards Ess, but towards the world in general. Every word was perfectly annunciated and tinged with the haughtiness of self-importance.

The deep blue suit that had evidently been well tailored, apparent by the precise fit on his faultless frame, made Ess feel rather self-conscious at her own choice of clothing. His appearance on the whole was that of every detail having been taken into earnest consideration. His dark hair appeared expertly coiffed; his eyebrows, though thick, were impeccably shaped; and his slightly bronzed skin looked as smooth as polished marble. There didn't exist a gray hair or wrinkle to be seen.

Only his eyes gave away any signs of age. The russet brown of his irises hinted a sinister past and betrayed any of the placidness displayed in the rest of his features. There lurked a menacing darkness that had apparently deepened with the maturing of his maliciousness. The smirk that did not appear in the slight smile of his lips while taking in the sight before him, still made itself exceedingly present in his eyes.

As he slowly stepped his way closer and closer to her, as though caging an agitated prey, he continued speaking, trying to lull Ess into a false sense of security, "My dear, you look splendid. Not my first choice in dress, but the cut does flatter your figure very well." He stepped closer. "Allow me to introduce myself." Another step forward. "I am Marcus Angoli, a great admirer of yours; and I have been looking forward to your most anticipated acquaintance. It has been long overdue, wouldn't you agree?" He was only a few feet away from her now.

Ess fought against her desire to believe in his harmlessness. He seemed too sedate, which made him the most dangerous sort of predator. After a moment she found her voice, and readied herself to fight against his deceiving manners with her own contemptuous conduct, "I would have been just as content as to have prolonged such an acquaintance, until – oh, say – never?"

A slight shadow passed over the man's eyes for less than a second, but Ess caught it. She struck a blow to his ego.

He changed the direction of the conversation. "Allow me to show you around my gallery." When Ess didn't take the arm he extended to her, he imposed upon her to comply by slowly but determinedly covering the last of the distance between them. He seized her hand and placed it under his arm, keeping it there with his own hand, and holding it with a tight grip. Ess did not attempt to hide her resentment, but allowed herself to be guided around the room. She didn't fail to notice that most of the works, statues and paintings alike, had her face.

"The room is practically dedicated to you." Angoli gave her a glance that showed his pleasure. He expected that she should feel the same way, or at least display some attitude of honor. When this did not appear to be the case, a slight furrow made it's way to his brow. "There are a few pieces that are not 'Esther Art', but they will be replaced by future works I intend to have commissioned. Already, some of my priceless art has made way for your lovely form." With a controlled measure of entertainment in his voice he explained, "I have a Manet that once resided in a place of honor above the fireplace. It now decorates the guest bathroom off of the receiving hall." He looked pleased with the comical idea of reducing a Manet to a bathroom hanging.

"Would you like to see which painting has taken its place?" He guided her towards the other end of the room. "It was my first work of 'Esther Art' and still remains my favorite."

He drew her attention to a mural that took up a fair portion of the wall over another ridiculously ornate fireplace. The oil-based painting was an illustration of what looked like a scene from the story of Esther in the Bible. It portrayed the young queen bowing before her king and husband, risking her life to beg an audience with him so that she could deliver the Jewish people from their enemy, Haman, and his intended genocidal massacre. It was quite an impressive moment captured on canvas by Max's skilled hand.

While Ess studied the work, her appreciation for its fine depiction unhidden from her face, Angoli took the opportunity to explain himself to her; something he never would have done with anyone else in the world. "Allow me to fill you in on this story you play such a significant role in," he began.

"Max, your hero and protector," his words were openly supercilious, "your obsessed artist, truly has quite a history. But before I go into detail, I must insist that this confession remain between you and I. It must go no further." He paused for affect.

"Max," he smiled snidely, "happens to be my son." Ess's eyes fell away from the painting and darted towards the man's face. She couldn't help but display her shock and disbelief. "Oh, he doesn't know it. He's a bastard, and so I would never truly acknowledge him. His mother was beautiful and a woman of little morals. I had my time with her, but it was only a short time in which she belonged to me alone. You know how fickle you women can be." He led her in a new direction along the wall of the gallery.

"She grew tired of me, and began to explore other options. When I found out, I turned that slut out faster than she could blink. She barely had time enough to beg me to provide for our unborn child. At the time, I had supposed that it could have been the spawn of any of the scum she had been with, but you only have to look at Max to see the resemblance between us."

Angoli stopped, and turned towards Ess to give her a good look at his features. It was true. They had an undeniably similar jaw-line and the set of their eyes were identical. How odd, though, that Ess didn't notice it before. It wasn't until she looked for it that she saw the similarities.

"I knew early on that he was mine, but I never made any claim on him. As I said, he was a bastard, and Marcus Angoli does not father bastards." He continued to lead Ess around the room.

"Interesting story, wouldn't you say? It gets better, though, because you come into it." He paused to see if she understood the compliment, but she didn't acknowledge it, so he continued. "Though I never recognized him as my son, I always kept a loosely curious eye on him. I watched him grow up as a ward of the state, and work his way through college, observing him struggle to make ends meet. He has a voracious will to survive, you know. He gets that from me." It was a peculiar show of pride from a man who would not declare his paternity to his son.

"Eventually, I decided to bestow a little kindness on him, and I found the perfect opportunity to do so. While he was still a student of the arts, he happened to display a few pieces in a gallery I was associated with. I thought I'd throw a little money his way, in return for his works.

"Needless to say, I was quite pleased with his art. More of his earlier pieces are over here."

He pointed to some exquisitely detailed renderings of Ess in Roman garb posing in very dramatic scenes as a goddess to be adored. It was yet another unsettling moment that Ess found herself the figure of attention.

"Really, I was only expecting to put them into storage, or maybe a little nook somewhere if they were decent enough, but I was truly impressed. And, so, I placed them here in my personal gallery.

"Over time, I found a few more opportunities to lend Max a hand. His works typically had you in mind, so I managed to keep with the 'Esther Art' theme by purchasing them. It became obvious that Max had an obsession with this woman who found her way into his creations. Apparently, obsession is a trait that runs in our family." He then expressed his amusement at what he thought to be a very humorous observation by releasing a polite chuckle.

"After only a few years your face took over every corner of my gallery. But, though I watched Max more and more intently, I never saw the model for his works. There never seemed to be a real person in his life that inspired him. I thought you simply to be a figment of his remarkable imagination.

"Now, I finally find that you were not simply in his head after all. When you walked into the gallery, my heart seized with delight." As he turned himself towards her, he pulled her hand to his chest, which brought her intimately closer to him. "One moment I was enticed by an illusive and exquisite nude temptress, wishing for soft warm skin rather than cold hard stone, and the next moment there you were, in the flesh. My wish had come true."

He attempted to stroke his fingers across her cheek, but Ess pulled away with a shudder. The embarrassing redness of her ill-timed blush warmed her face once again. Instead of becoming irritated, Angoli just laughed. "I'll give you time to get used to me." He allowed her to put a little distance between them. "Back to my story."

He grabbed her arm again, and continued their stroll around the room. "Where was I? Yes, yes. The gallery. The odd thing was Max's reaction. He looked as though he'd seen a ghost. It appeared that he had not expected your presence, either. Of course, when you left, he became distracted and excused himself from our meeting. I was distracted myself. I had to work fast in order to make sure you were followed. The two weeks I had you watched were torture. I wanted so terribly just to take you at once, but I know that I can't always get what I want just by taking it. There has to be a method, a procedure to acquiring something if I have any hope of keeping it. I couldn't have any witnesses, anyone who'd interfere with my intensions.

"But Max was watching. I should have expected it. It never crossed my mind that he would actually get in my way, but apparently, he saw what was happening. Now he's got others involved, and has interfered with my plans." Anger stormed across his face. He didn't bother to hide his furious emotions this time, as the wheels turned in his head.

His voice rose and the rhythm of his words quickened with the intensity of his newly roaring fury. "Now there are people who know you are here, who know what I have taken," he continued to fume. "Martin should have disposed of them out there in the woods. It would have been a perfect opportunity, and yet he did not take it. That boy has no backbone; and now I'll have to send others to finish what he could not. Damn it. I wanted this done and over with by now.

"With all my goddamn money, why is it that I can't I seem to get just what I want?"

With that, he dropped her arm and strode over to a phone on a side table. Picking it up, he spat directions into the receiver, "Owen, I want you and your men to get back out there, and find Max and his companions. Bring Max here and get rid of the others . . . Do whatever you need to do. And dispose of the evidence."

He appeared to throw a very well-controlled temper tantrum, but emitted a dangerous aura, nevertheless. Ess became afraid for more than just herself at hearing the words he had just spoken into the phone. He was going to have them killed: Manda and Dr. Roden. He was sending his henchmen out to do it.

With all that had happened to her in the last forty-eight hours, Ess thought she should have learned to control her tendency to panic by now. Leaning over, she began sucking in large gulps of breath to try to regain her calm. She needed to remain composed. She had to do something. She couldn't let two innocent people be murdered. What could she do? There seemed to be nothing she could do until she made her own escape.

She had to think, and she needed oxygen to do so. So she kept taking in deep breaths. Think, damn it, think!

* * *

"Turn here." Martin gave his direction at the last moment, and Roden had to slam his foot on the brake. Still, he missed the turn. Irritated at Martin's ill-timed instruction, Roden pulled to the side of the road, and made a u-turn.

When their eyes met in the rearview mirror, Martin's look of amusement got under Roden's skin. The younger man continued to enjoy this whole situation, while the psychiatrist's self control wore thinner and thinner. Roden actually contemplated choking the man after this miserable affair was over with, but decided that he would be satisfied with just a good solid punch in that jackass's face.

That Martin still found diversion in what had been happening was disturbing to everyone involved. Before they even began their drive, Max had searched Martin's person for the gun, and took it away from him; and when he presented the Rohypnol as part of the plan for taking care of the dogs, that had been confiscated, as well. It had to be obvious that no one in the car liked him; and his own employer didn't even trust him to finish a job. Max gave him a pounding earlier, and would in all likeliness resume the beating once they rescued Ess. And yet, this man always had a smirk, always found the joke in everyone's frustration.

What made him so complacent in such a serious predicament? Roden was displeased with their unfortunate reliance on this tactless man. He didn't trust him, and knew that he needed to keep his eye on the (nearly) good-for-nothing troublemaker.

"How much further?" Roden didn't feel any desire to hide his frustration, though he knew it just added pleasure to Martin's entertainment.

"Not much farther," Martin smiled back. "Just keep following the road for about an hour. Angoli's house is at the end. There's nothing else along the way, so you'll know when you're close."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ess sat in subdued silence near the end of a massive dining table. The enormous dining room could quite possibly have been more accurately described as a banquet hall. The chandeliers and decorative moldings were rather gothic and the furnishings excessively elaborate. The seating looked as though it could accommodate thirty or more guests, yet Ess's place had been set very close to Angoli's so that she remained within detainment range of her captor.

Occasionally, he reached his hand towards her with the intent of an intimate touch, and each time, Ess recoiled from it. She tried to keep her disdain for the man as indiscernible as she could, for fear of causing another of his heated episodes, but complete physical apathy could not be consistently maintained. Each time she rejected his advancement, his brow furrowed over the offence, but it quickly smoothed out again as he chose to forget about it and continue with his meal.

Ess didn't touch anything on her plate. It had been several hours since she last ate, and the dish proved to be a particular favorite of hers (she couldn't help but imagine that it was most likely intentional); but the situation did not allow for her stomach to accept even a mouthful of bread or a handful of grapes for digestion.

"I had thought that your hair would be curly, just as Max's works have all portrayed." Ess looked up from her plate in reaction to the unexpected observation, and noticed that the admiration visible in Angoli's eyes seemed tinged with the smallest degree of disappointment.

Did this statement expect a reply? "I've never liked my curls. I have my hair chemically straightened." She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the words came out mousy and somewhat apologetic.

"Ah," he smiled and picked up his fork to continue his meal. "Well, we will just have to let them grow out, then."

Ess knew that this time no answer was required. She felt taken aback by such an assertion. He obviously felt that he had the right to make such decisions regarding her physical appearance. This assumedly inherent privilege to control her like she was simply a pet finally opened the well of detestation that had been collecting deep inside her over the past few days. She said nothing for fear of the consequences, but she let that well of hate set to boil, willing it to ultimately concoct itself into courage.

Angoli urged her to eat once again, so she picked up her fork, but only managed to move a few morsels around on the plate. The unrelenting man only ignored her impassiveness. Noticing her unhappiness didn't suit his wishes for the enjoyment of her company. He saw only what he wanted to see, and that excluded Ess's revulsion over the uncomfortable situation he forced her into.

Eventually he placed his napkin over his plate, and chose to break the silence once more. "I was thinking that we should go away for awhile."

Ess stiffened at this. He intended to take her further away from any rescue? It would be all the more difficult to escape him if they traveled to some unfamiliar place with absolutely no one that might be able to help her. She still held a small hope in Max's promise to come for her, but leaving this place would make the likeliness of that happening dwindle more than ever.

Angoli didn't miss her rigid response. "My pet, I think it would be best, to clear us from any unwanted disturbances. And," he attempted to take her hand, but she moved it to her lap, "it will give us an opportunity to get to know one another better; to get used to each other." His patience appeared to be wavering a little at her continued reserve.

Just how long did he intend to keep her as his prisoner? This did not simply sound like some madman's psychotic spree. He imagined that a long-term relationship would form. What did he expect to do? Brainwash her? Mold her into some lifestyle and turn her into something she wasn't? She shivered; another reaction that did not go unnoticed.

He shifted in his seat, and leaned towards her, invading her space. Though Ess sunk as far into her chair as she could, she was unable to avoid his closeness. His face did not leave the intimate proximity of hers, and she felt him studying her with a covetous gaze. "I thought that, since it will be your first time traveling, you might like to choose the destination. Someplace outside of this country is your only restriction." He smiled at her as though he had just bestowed a remarkable gift upon her.

Part of her nearly sought excitement at the thought of finally traveling. It had been a dream of hers for so long; but now the very idea became tainted by the circumstances. Her desire to see the world fleeted from the longing she felt for her regular old life.

"I don't have a passport." If she could think of nothing else, the lack of passport had to be one setback she had on her side.

"Oh, don't worry," his smile radiated the diverted condescension he felt. "I have taken care of that little detail. You don't think I just sat here pining for you the entire time, do you? I made plans, cut through red tape and removed the bothersome roadblocks. Besides, I have connections. It's all been attended to. Just make your choice. Where do you wish to go?"

"I don't wish to go anywhere with you. I just want to go home." Ess's words burst forth as a daring demand. She felt her courage finally rising. "My home," she clarified so there could be no misinterpretation of her meaning.

Angoli, of course, didn't respond well to this audacity. His chair overturned as he leapt to his feet, and grabbed Ess's arm, pulling her out of her own seat. Again, her face came within inches of his, but this time his expression was different. The predator glare in his eyes revealed a readiness to go in for the kill.

Unexpectedly, the remainder of Ess's courage fell into place. This man's advantage was in his ability to intimidate. A mental switch flipped in her head, and she knew she had to hold her ground. She met his glowering stare with a defiant look of her own.

It only took a moment before Ess witnessed a falter in his eyes. Her boldness caught him off guard. However, the momentary stumble of his dominance made him all the angrier. Where he lost the grip on his intimidation, he gained it in his physical force.

With a bruise impacting grasp on her arm, Angoli dragged Ess from the dining room and pulled her up the stairs. When they reached the room that had been designated to her, he hurled her through the door. She landed hard on her knees and palms. The door slammed shut behind her with all of the might Angoli could demonstrate in his anger, and he locked her in.

When he shouted through the door, Ess felt grateful for the thick wooden barrier that held back the full force of his enraged words. "I will come back for you in a few hours. You will be packed and ready to go or you will see the full extent of my anger." He beat his fist on the door to emphasize his threat.

Ess sat on the floor where she had landed, taking a moment to regain herself. She no longer felt afraid. The courage that had turned itself on in her head could not be shut off now. She would not let it.

Now, she had to think. The fear no longer clouded her brain, so she could plan and prepare. She could get out of this. There had to be a way. This Angoli could not be completely infallible in his designs.

Ess needed time; she needed opportunity and quick logic. If only she could lock herself in while she contemplated, but the only item in the room large enough to block the door would be the bed. That gigantic wooden edifact could not be moved by her alone.

The next option was to pack. Ess had to be ready. She had no desire to test the deranged man's threats. With that decision made, she began going through her things. What did she have available to her? And what would be most useful to her?

With nimble quickness and flickers of plots forming in her head, Ess began sifting through her closet and medicine cabinets, looking for the right weapons for her endeavor.

* * *

The BMW charged down the road in silence. Its passengers gave up speaking hours ago, having spent so much time together in the cramped vicinity of the car's cabin. The bulk of the journey was nearly at an end. Soon they would have to sum up the nerve to break into a huge and well-guarded estate. The only person in the car who could ever have imagined finding themselves in such an outlandish predicament during their lifetime was Martin.

Roden felt the magnitude of such anxiety radiate from the young woman next to him. Manda had shown herself rarely to be at a loss for words, and now everyone present could feel the stifling effects from her lack of commentary. The true weight of the impending danger dampened the bravado of them all.

Trees and bushes sped past them along the side of the lonely road. No other cars crossed their path, and Martin claimed that they wouldn't see any, either. No one had cause to use this isolated drive accept Angoli and those on his payroll. The solitude of this wooded area made Roden feel all the more apprehensive regarding what they were about to do.

As they rounded a bend in the road, the four companions made out the image of a black SUV in the distance. It was heading towards them. "Manda, Max. Get down!" Martin cried.

It took only a moment for the significance of his order to register to them. Manda let out a little squeak of fear, and the three passengers dunked their heads below the window as the SUV came upon them. Thinking quickly, Roden tried to look nonchalant, like he was just some unremarkably inconspicuous driver out on a joyride as the other vehicle passed.

Such luck would not be theirs, however. Of course, Angoli's men ultimately recognized the car that Martin had driven to the gas station the previous day. After that moment of recognition, the SUV squealed into a u-turn and began charging after the small coup. Roden caught the action in his rearview mirror, and put his foot down on the gas. The other three passengers looked behind them, having caught on, as well. Terror was written on all of their faces as they urged the BMW forward with their minds, hoping to put space between them and their chasers.

Moments later, the sound of gunfire could be heard. Manda screamed and hid her head under her arms.

"Shit! They're shooting at us," Martin exclaimed, in case the others couldn't comprehend the sharp banging sounds coming from behind them. "Step on it, Doc!"

Roden gave him a quick snarl from the rearview mirror. He was going as fast as he could, while maintaining control over the winding road. The good doctor, desperate to save his passengers (and his car), was doing his best. This was his first car chase, after all, which was most likely not the case for Martin.

When a bullet ripped through the side view mirror on Roden's side of the car, he let out a howling curse of aggravation. The men in the SUV appeared to be shooting with the intent to kill, and even his car wasn't safe. This meant war to him now. Managing to keep control of the steering, he increased the speed of the car to its limits.

The SUV increased its speed in unison, and came upon them at an alarming rate. Within seconds, they felt the jolt as the SUV rammed into the backside of the BMW. The intent was to force the small car off of the road, but Roden wasn't about to go down without a fight. He knew the capabilities of his beloved vehicle, and sustained control of the wheels as the car straightened back over the road.

"There's a dirt road up ahead on your left, doc. Turn down it as fast as you can." Fear caused Martin to frantically cry out his direction. Roden gave him a skeptical look through the mirror. He didn't want any of Martin's asinine ideas to destroy his car or jeopardize their lives any further. Martin, whose life was in just as much danger as the other three, since he knew he would be as good as dead if they found that he was helping Max, gave him a demanding glare, and shouted, "Just do it!"

Roden saw the turn ahead, and at the last moment, swung the steering wheel in that direction. The back wheels of the BMW skidded across the pavement, while the front wheels met the dirt on the path, tossing loose stones in all directions. Roden put his foot down on the gas, and the car hugged the unpaved road as it sped into the woods.

The black SUV followed with a fast turn of its own. The weight distribution of the larger vehicle could not handle the turn like the small BMW, and the change from concrete to gravel made it unable to grip the sharp bend. It rolled onto it's side at the entrance to the path, and slid across the terrain until it slammed into a tree. The damage from the torn metal and crushed roof stopped the assailants in their tracks.

Roden heaved a sigh, after witnessing the collision, while Manda clutched the door handle with white knuckles; her eyes still squeezed shut to keep from seeing what might be hurtling towards them. Max and Martin could only stare behind them in disbelief at the destruction. No one in the car seemed able to find their voice to speak.