Текст книги "Hope To Escape"

Автор книги: Jack Parker

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Roden heaved his out-of-shape lungs, as he hurriedly made his way to a rather defeated looking Max. Max himself tried to catch his breath as he kneeled on the ground where he had collapsed from his effort to catch up with the car.

"Max," Roden rasped, "Max, come on now. You've got to get a hold of yourself." He slapped him on the back, while practically doubling over with the painful cramps that pierced his own sides.

In the distance, Martin limped up the drive. Manda moved ahead of him, after refusing to help him along. Max got himself up after a few very deep gulps of air, and let Roden lead him back towards the house. When they reached Manda, she posed the question that was on all of their minds, "What now?"

"Well," Max reasoned between breaths, "we need to follow them. We don't know where they are heading, so we can't let them get too far ahead."

"We need to go get the car." Roden felt a pang of excitement at the idea.

"Hold on, hold on," Martin exclaimed as he finally hobbled up to them. "It'll take too long to get back to Roden's car. We have access to some vehicles that are much closer." They gave him a wary appeal to continue. "Angoli has cars in the garage. The keys are hanging in the guards' cottage. It would get us going much faster, and the gas tanks are undoubtedly full."

True, Roden's car had very little gas left in it, and Angoli's cars were much closer, but Roden cringed at the thought of deserting his car where he had parked it. He already nearly lost it once, and to the same man who was telling him to leave it behind now. But, time was of the essence. They had to go at once.

"Fine, fine," Roden begrudgingly agreed, "let's go get the keys."

"You get the keys," Martin replied, "I'm going to run into the house and get some bandages, and maybe some ice. My leg hurts like a mother f – ".

"No way," Manda cut him off. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. You may have helped us get in here, but I still don't trust you as far as I could throw you. And believe me, right now I'd like to hurtle you into the closest obliging tree."

"Wow, Manda," Max remarked, impressed by her tenacity when it wasn't directed towards him. "Okay, you go into the house with Martin and help him bandage himself up while Mike and I get the keys from the cottage. I think I saw where they were hanging. We can bring the car around to the front and meet you there. Now hurry."

Manda refrained from using her signature eye roll at the thought of being stuck with Martin, but quickly followed him into the house. She certainly couldn't be less pleased with having to help such a loathsome man out, but was willing to put up with it to get back on track towards saving Ess.

Max and Roden, who had reasonably recovered from their prior exertion, jogged towards the guards' cottage, and peered inside. The newbie guard sat slumped in his chair, breathing heavily. Quietly, they entered the door, and Max made his way over to the key hooks. There was only one set of keys available, and it was labeled 'Rolls'.

"Damn. That's all we have? A Rolls Royce? That can't be good. Those suckers aren't very fast, are they?" Roden just shrugged at Max's question and grabbed the keys.

As they turned to leave, the guard stirred. "You back?" He yawned. "Couldn't find th-the, aah, the aah, the furry. . . aah. . . you know – dogs."

Roden exchanged an amused glance with Max. The man's announcement had worried them for a moment, but the roofie obviously held up its affects. Roden decided to try something. He whispered to Max, "This might be a good chance to find out where Angoli plans on taking Ess, just in case we can't catch up with them on the road. Then, we'll still have a trail."

The idea of not catching up with Angoli and Ess made Max pale. This might be their best opportunity of finding out – just in case. "Okay. Give it a try."

Roden nodded. "You couldn't find the dogs, huh?"

"Nope. Ran off . . . Dumb mutts."

"Well, did you hear me on the radio earlier, telling you where I was taking Mr. Angoli?"

The drugged man tried to look up at Roden as he spoke, but only managed to keep one eye open, and that eye didn't seem to really focus on anything. He appeared irritated that the person speaking to him had questioned his intelligence by asking such a thing. Of course he could remember! But when he answered, the words came out in one long incoherent slur.

Roden strained to understand the drugged man. The only word he comprehended sounded a lot like 'airport'. Airport?

"Ah, that's right. And did I tell you where they are flying to?" Roden probed him further.

The man felt no less annoyed at the new question, and Roden couldn't understand the grumbled reply. When he asked him to repeat his answer, the sedated guard did not oblige him with a response. The Rohypnol clearly made him hazy, as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Jeez, Max, how much did you give him?" Max shrugged and shook his head, a bit embarrassed to admit that he may have overdone it. Roden tried again. "Where was that again?"

The man answered this time, a little slower and more pronounced because he thought his questioner was the one lacking the intellectual capacity to understand. Roden repeated the syllables, and rolled them around on his tongue, trying to make sense of the man's riddle of slurs.

"Clearly, the man's incoherent." Max was getting anxious. "Let's just go."

"Wait, wait." Roden endeavored to interpret the man's speech. "Mul – diva –ba – inja? That's . . . that's got to be. . ." and it hit him. "I think I know what it is."

"What? What?" Max was frantic. He needed to know, and he needed to get going.

"The Maldives? – By India?" Roden directed the question to the guard.

"Tha's . . . wha' I say." The guard confirmed. He sounded beyond annoyed at this point that this dense person couldn't grapple what he told him.

With the newfound knowledge pressed out of the guard, Max and Roden took off towards the garage. While they ran – yet again – Roden huffed out an explanation for why they should worry. "The Maldives are a small, secluded chain of islands off of India. They're not easy to get to. If he gets her there, we'll have even bigger problems trying to get her back."

"Oh," Max panted back, "that's just great. And this whole chase thing was going so well up until now."

The Rolls Royce was beautiful. Roden stood back for a moment to admire it's shiny perfection, because in the next few minutes, they were going to drive it to its limits, and it probably wouldn't look so stunning by the time they were done.

A few seconds after they swung around the drive to the entryway, Manda and Martin rushed out of the massive doors. Manda stopped short at seeing the luxurious car, but quickly regained herself, and ran around to the back passenger-side door.

"Whoa, a car chase in style. Can't say I'm not impressed with the ride." Manda exclaimed. "Let's tear the hell out of Mr. Angoli's car." No one could say Manda wasn't a vengeful person.

"That's exactly what I intend to do." Max replied as he hit the gas and hightailed along the drive and out of the estate grounds.

* * *

The ride had been long, uncomfortable and silent. Angoli couldn't resist giving Ess an occasional glance, but she managed to keep her eyes on the driver's headrest the entire journey. Her lack of motion and emotion managed to deter Angoli from making any attempts at shallow conversation or venturing any unwelcome caresses. Unfortunately, Ess knew that didn't mean he wouldn't try it in the future. He had intentions towards her, and seemed determined to pursue them.

Earlier in the drive, when Ess had thought she couldn't be more disgusted with Angoli, her detestation proved to reach even higher. On the side of the road they could see the wreckage of a black SUV, toppled onto its side and practically wrapped around a tree. Ess felt sure that it was the SUV she had been forced into yesterday. That meant that it belonged to Angoli. She felt livid hatred for the self-obsessed man when he ordered John to ignore the mangled vehicle and keep driving to the airport.

Later in the course of the drive, Ess began to recognize her surroundings. She knew the general vicinity of the airport. Although she rarely had cause to go there, she did, on occasion, pick her father up from the arrivals area when he visited after he moved to Miami. The familiar locale made Ess finally feel close to reaching a real opportunity to save herself.

When they reached the terminal area, however, the driver continued past the departures drop-off zone. This puzzled Ess, and she became more apprehensive that Angoli did, in fact, have a way around security.

Sure enough, the car pulled into a smaller drive further down the way and passed another building that was connected to a large airplane hanger. John swiped a card through a checkpoint at a security gate and drove onto the airport's tarmac, pulling up beside a plane. It appeared much smaller than any plane Ess had ever thought she would be flying in. The writing on the side declared it to be a Citation X, and it was rather sleek in clean white metallic with a blue design along the side and massive engines mounted high on the tail. The very sophisticated shape of the aircraft further indicated the extent of Angoli's wealth and his desire to display it.

Angoli commanded Ess to remain in the car as he and the driver spoke to the two pilots. He then produced some passport identifications and pointed to the grimacing woman in the car. One pilot gave Ess a good look through the window, comparing her to the photo on one of the passports. She couldn't be sure if the pilots worked directly for Angoli or if she could possibly risk notifying them of her hostage situation. She assured herself that she would look for the opportunity to find out.

Angoli walked with the pilots towards the front of the plane, while John the driver helped her out of the car and led her with a tight grip up the steps, through the open door of the plane's cabin. He sat her down in a seat and belted her in. "No funny business, Okay? I've got my eye on you."

With that, he headed back out the door to get the bags. Ess unbuckled her seatbelt and peered out of the window. She could chance a run for it, but John had parked the car so close that there could be no clear path to run around it and get away fast enough. She didn't know exactly where she could run either. Still, she told herself, it would certainly be better to chance it, than to regret doing nothing.

Unluckily, though, as Ess headed for the door, Angoli walked up the steps into the plane.

"Please, Esther, have a seat. John will see to your luggage. You've had a long day. It's time for you to relax. Go on and sit down. The seats do recline all the way back, you know." He smiled patronizingly at her. "Would you like a glass of wine to help you rest?"

"No." Ess needed to keep her wits about her. Alcohol certainly wouldn't allow that.

"No?" Angoli feigned surprise.

"No, thank you." Ess glared, which caused the arrogant man's nostrils to flare. She found herself rather thrilled when she could get under his skin.

John brought their personal bags onboard with a stern scowl that never seemed to leave his face. The pilots followed. Having already loaded the larger items underneath, they now headed for the cockpit. Ess noted that Angoli visibly changed his demeanor when they boarded. He acted more passively superior rather than exhibiting his naturally supercilious self; obviously, trying to keep up pretences. Ess surmised from this, that the pilots must not work directly for him. That was a promising observation.

Angoli now eyed her outfit, after only having given it a passing glance in his earlier rush to leave the estate. She had chosen a pair of business slacks and a white button up shirt, which she buttoned all the way to the top. This dress decision had been made as a point that she in no way wanted to entice Angoli's appetite and definitely had no desire to receive his notice. "The captain told me that since the Maldives are such a long way away, and this plane is made for speed rather than distance, we will have to make several stops on our trip. I do hope you will be comfortable."

Opportunity. Finally, Ess found a window of opportunity. "Well, now that you mention it, I wouldn't mind changing into something a little more comfortable before the long flight begins. May I have my bag?"

Angoli looked suspiciously at her for a moment, wondering at her sudden display of easy compliance, and then decided that there was nothing she could do at this point to escape. With John and himself between her and the only exit, Ess wasn't going anywhere outside of these closed quarters. He motioned for John to hand over her luggage and watched closely as she closed the door to the water closet behind her.

Now it was time for Ess to make her move.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The Rolls Royce surprised them all. It was amazingly fast for such a huge and heavy thing. Max roared down the highway, speeding at twice the legal limit, and praying that he wouldn't draw the attention of any highway police troopers. Who knew if Angoli hadn't already alerted the police force and had them out looking for him. Then again, this was Angoli's car he was driving. Max doubted that the local law enforcement would dare to stop this vehicle. With that thought in mind, he laid his foot on the gas all the more, and sped along like he was sure no one had ever sped in a Rolls Royce before.

As they neared the airport Martin decided to bring up a good point. "You know Angoli charters a private plane, right?" Max looked at him through the rearview mirror as if prompting him to make his point. "He won't be boarding at the commercial terminals. He meets the plane at an executive jet terminal, a private center at the airport. You have to pass the terminals and go around to a separate building."

"What about security?" Manda asked.

"They have a private security entrance, and the pilots verify the passengers with the FAA. Won't be a problem for Angoli."

"But how are we supposed to get past security?" Manda continued with concern.

"Well," Martin used his slimy grin, "we have a big boat of a car. I'm sure it'll come in handy." This time, Max actually returned his smile.

* * *

Ess took a deep calming breath, trying her best to reduce her shaking chills. She knew she had to do this, but the thought of finally having the opportunity to actively seek her own freedom became nerve-racking. With her hand on the door handle, she continued to take additional tranquilizing breaths, until she felt the roar of the engines firing up. No more time to dally. Time to act.

She generated as little noise as she could while she stepped back into the cabin, keeping her right hand behind her back; and pausing to discern the scene before her so that she could determine how to make her move. The pilots remained in the cockpit readying the plane for its impending flight, but the airplane door was still open. Angoli lounged in a seat, facing forward, where he sipped a glass of red wine. If he heard Ess re-enter the cabin, he made no acknowledgment of it.

Luck had to be smiling on her finally, because John was nowhere in sight. A peek out of the windows showed her that the Town Car no longer sat beside the plane. The security guard must have gone to park it in the lot. With one less person present to contend with, Ess felt surer of herself and moved to follow through on her plan.

From behind her back, she produced a little 'Molotov cocktail' she had thrown together while in the water closet. It was simple, really. While back at the estate, she had perused her limited selection of beauty products and chose the bottle of Chanel perfume, half of which she dumped down the sink, and a bottle of acetone based nail polish remover. She packed them in her carry-on bag, noting that both appeared harmless enough, in case Angoli or his security guards decided to search her baggage.

Once she found some privacy on the plane, Ess quickly changed her outfit into a kitschy but rather comfortable pink velour jumpsuit, and began enacting her plan. She filled the perfume bottle with the nail polish remover, careful not to breath too deeply until she contained the mixture. She didn't know what to expect from her concoction, but she hoped that the perfume would at least cause some respiratory irritation, and maybe a little dizziness would occur from the fumes of the nail polish remover. It just had to be enough to hinder her captor from grabbing her when she ran.

Ess quietly approached Angoli. He glanced back at her, but didn't seem to take in the item she carried in her hand. "Have a seat." He commanded, too self-absorbed in his egotistical power to notice that Ess might be exhibiting any unusual behavior.

She made as though to sit down, but rather than fully placing herself in the chair, Ess lowered herself enough to be at eye-level with Angoli. Realizing that hesitation would do her no good, she raised the bottle in her hand, and without a second thought, squeezed three spritzes in quick succession directly into the insufferable man's face. She paused only a moment to gauge his reaction to the chemicals before hurriedly racing for the exit.

Angoli began wheezing and coughing, and then an unexpected reaction set in. A fair amount of the spray made it into his eyes, before his eyelids could react, causing profuse burning and blurred sight. He let out a startled cry at the sting, which alerted the pilots to the disturbance. Seeing their esteemed passenger suddenly debilitated and the young woman hastily leaving the plane, the pilots deduced a security issue, and immediately acted on it.

Ess was only a few yards from the aircraft when the captain tackled her. She hit the ground and skidded along the blacktop. Add scuffed knees and elbows, as well as torn palms to her list of weekend injuries. Thankfully, she did prevent her head from knocking against the pavement, but the luck ended there as the pilot restrained her to the ground, and the first officer used his cell phone to call in a security breech to the TSA.

"No," Ess tried to get the man's attention. "You don't understand. I'm trying to – "

"Save it lady." The captain tightened his grip. "You can explain it to security. We don't take any possible acts of terrorism lightly in this industry."

Terrorism? Ess could not believe it. Her home had been invaded, she was kidnapped four times, she'd been tied up, shot at, knocked down, manhandled, threatened, and reduced to an immaterial possession all in one weekend, and now she was being accused of terrorism?

This made Ess angry beyond belief. She found new physical strength, and fought her way out from under the captain by jamming her elbow into his chest. The first officer grabbed for her as she started to rise, but she dodged and avoided his grasp.

Regrettably, this incident with the pilots had lasted long enough to allow John to return to the plane. Before Ess could get any further, a gun was shoved in her face, stopping her in her tracks. She stepped back towards the pilots, who were also shocked and intimidated by the man with the gun aimed in their direction.

"Now, now, sir," the captain attempted to handle the newest turn in the situation. "There's no need for the gun. We're handling the security breech, and we're perfectly able to detain her."

"Obviously, not." John replied with annoyance at the turn of events. "Since you were so damn quick to call the TSA, we'd better be taking off right now, before they get here. So why don't the three of you just get into the plane, and we'll depart."

He started herding them towards the plane, using his gun as incentive to move, when a thunderous crash happened from behind him. He turned around in time to witness the security gate at the entrance burst forward and fly off its hinges, setting off a loud security alarm as a Rolls Royce squealed through the barrier.

Angoli's man had to dive out of the way to avoid colliding with the front end of the car as it skidded to a halt a few feet in front of Ess and the pilots. The passengers of the vehicle promptly exited, and the woman in high heels acted quickly in snatching the gun away from John before he could pick himself up off of the ground and regain his advantage. With her distinctive flare, she aimed the gun at him, and dared him to try and get up.

"Manda?" Ess couldn't believe her eyes. The woman before her looked like a female Rambo. Ess couldn't decide rather to laugh or to be in awe of her best friend.

She quickly took in her other rescuers. Dr. Roden she recognized from the restaurant, but why was Martin there? He had attempted to take her to Angoli. He wasn't on her side. Something seemed wrong about that.

Then there was Max. He stood there with an indescribable look on his face. So much anger and guilt welled within him that he didn't know what his first reaction should be. He made eye contact with Ess, and she smiled, grateful and pleased to see him. He came for her, just as he'd promised.

The moment was cut short, however.

"Max!" The entire crowd looked towards the plane. "I knew you were trying to fool with my plans, but I didn't think you had it in you to get this far." Angoli descended down the steps of the aircraft. Ess's concoction still affected his eyes and his senses, but he endeavored not to make that too apparent. When he reached the tarmac, he moved with slow deliberation towards the group. Max pulled Ess behind him, and started to push her towards the car, hoping it would still be in drivable condition. Angoli didn't like this, and so he picked up his pace, bent on preventing it by his own physical force, but Max wasn't about to let him get any closer.

Pulling the gun out from under his jacket, Max pointed it at Angoli, deterring him from taking another step. The sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance, though barely discernable over the high-pitched ringing of the nearby gate alarm. Max continued to back away with Ess, causing Angoli's anger to get the better of him. He began towards them again, but Max cocked the gun with a determined click. If Angoli hadn't stopped again upon hearing that notable sound, Max would not have hesitated in pulling the trigger.

"Wait," Ess needed to intercede before the situation worsened. "Max, don't do it."

"Seriously? I don't see why not?" Max replied, never taking his eyes off of Angoli. "He'll keep coming after you if he can. He's a relentless psychopath with too much money and power. The best way to keep you safe is to just get rid of him."

"No," Ess continued, "You don't want to do that. It sounds like the answer, but it's not. Don't throw your life away. You don't have to do that for me."

"I would do exactly that in a heartbeat." Max meant it with every part of him. "And I could definitely sleep at night knowing he's gone."

"Max, no." Ess knew that couldn't be true, especially if he were to find out about Angoli's little 'skeleton in the closet'. She certainly couldn't let Max commit murder for her. She had to reason with him, but the circumstances left little time for delicacy on the issue. "You'd be killing your father."

In her close proximity to Max, Ess could feel a shudder pass through him. His arm faltered in holding the gun towards Angoli's chest, but straightened again almost instantly. "No. No way." An unhearty laugh escaped him, as if he was trying to suppose it to be an ill-timed joke.

"It's true. He told me himself. The whole story." Ess felt the painful guilt of baring such news this way, but it had to be said. She couldn't let him commit murder.

Angoli saw the look on Max's face. The young man obviously felt taken aback, and the devious man knew this could be used to his advantage. "It is true Max." He took a step closer. "I am your father." Another step. "Your mother was a drug addict, an alcoholic and a whore." A third step. "She grew to be too much to handle, and when she became pregnant with you, I threw her away."

Max and Ess took a few steps back to maintain their distance, but found themselves backed up against the car. Angoli smiled impudently as he slowly reached towards the gun.

From the other side of the car, Roden couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Max, the orphan with no past, the boy who had gone unclaimed by any family for the past twenty years, was the natural son of a malignantly rich and powerful lunatic. It seemed to take so long for this new shock and disgust to diminish that Roden struggled with any ideas about what he should do to be of help in this situation.

Angoli just about had his fingers wrapped around the barrel of the gun, when the click of a second gun cocking was heard. Angoli and Roden both looked towards the sound.

While Angoli had held the attention of the immediate audience during his confrontation with Max, Martin had seized the chance to snatch the gun out of Manda's hands and push her out of his way. Now he aimed the gun towards Angoli and slowly made his way around the car to position himself closer to his target.

"You know," Martin spoke directly to Angoli, "I think this might be the perfect time to take my own revenge."

"Martin," Angoli spit out at him in aggravation, "This is not the time or the place for your petty whining – "

"Oh, it's not? When would be a better time for you? You haven't made any time for me yet in all the years I've been in your employ. So, I think I'll just take the time. Right now."

"Damn it, Martin." While Angoli became occupied in Martin's quarrel, Max and Ess began to slide along the car, further away from their foe. "You useless, worthless, waste of oxygen. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm taking my opportunity, that's what I'm doing." Martin's agitation and fixated anger emanated through his features and his tense stance. "For years you've overlooked me. I've tried to be what you've wanted me to be, but it's never been good enough. You never let me prove myself, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it. It's time to get rid of you and your unrealistic expectations. I'm your nephew, your next of kin for god's sake. You know I'll inherit everything when you're gone." Martin's eyes turned wild. "And I think I'll take it right goddam now, thank you very much." He shoved the gun forward to emphasize his desire, but did not pull the trigger right away.

Angoli jumped on Martin's momentary hesitation. "You think you'll inherit everything? Haven't you just heard? I have a son. If you kill me, Max gets everything, you brainless twit." The man was clever. All the newly admitted knowledge regarding Max's paternity took Martin's retaliation and rendered it useless. Angoli intended to diffuse his nephew by ridiculing the considerable flaws in his rash scheme.

Manda, Roden and Max found all the new information a bit overwhelming. Not only was Max Angoli's illegitimate son, but Martin turned out to be his disregarded nephew. With so much to take in there wasn't a lot of action on their part to resolve the ever-shifting danger. John only moved to crawl away from the scene, not wanting to have anything to do with the situation when the security vehicles arrived; and the pilots were simply dumbfounded and lost in regards to the whole unfolding drama.

Angoli, with his cutting words and his distainful sneer, didn't anticipate the true extent of Martin's anger. The younger man shook with fury, and the surprise on his face upon absorbing the news of his impending loss of inheritance turned into a fresh and doubly sour determination. Inheritance or no, he intended to get rid of the source of his bane and hatred. Of course, if he got rid of Max, as well, he would still be the inheritor. The enraged man's aim swung back and forth as he shifted the gun between Angoli and Max, trying to justify the idea of homicide, and determine his possibility of success.

Roden came to his senses and was quick enough to observe Martin's intent. Already positioned closer to Martin than anyone else, he leapt towards the angry young man just as he pulled the trigger. The action was enough to stray Martin's aim.

Roden tackled Martin to the ground and wrestled the gun away from him with Manda's help. Max ran towards Angoli who screamed out in pain. Martin's aim had been thrown off, but the bullet had met one of its intended targets.

Angoli reached out for Max in the hope of receiving aide from his newly admitted son. Max felt no pity for the injured man, though. His intentions were not to help him, but to detain him as the security vehicles finally arrived.

A man approached them, gun in one hand, badge in the other. Several more individuals, similarly dressed and acting in the same cautious manner, followed him, moving in on the scene. Some TSA agents began positioning themselves behind government vehicles in the background. "FBI", the man in the lead shouted.

"FBI?" Max and Manda both replied in unison.

* * *

While Martin was being placed under arrest, paramedics treated Angoli's bullet wound. The injury wasn't life threatening, having hit low on his thigh; but if Roden had not jumped on Martin when he did, the incident would have turned into a murder scene. Although he was rushed to a nearby hospital, Angoli too was taken into custody; and the lead FBI agent listened on as several other agents scrambled to get down the initial story of the last two days' events from Roden, Manda, Max and Ess. Between the four of them, the agents recorded quite a drama.

"We've been trying to get Marcus Angoli for a long time," the lead agent wound up the onsite case by saying, " but he's always managed to evade us. Now we truly have something legitimate to incriminate him for. Kidnapping is a federal crime."

Max paled at this statement, guilt ridden by his own act earlier in the weekend; but Ess had already labeled him as a hero rather than a kidnapper, and Manda just smiled and said nothing. Apparently, they forgave him his initial digression. It was, after all, done the spirit of the gratitude and adoration he had always felt towards Ess.