The Lawyer and the Killer Ch. 05

Susan was lying on a pile of filthy sheets in a creaky bed a some dingy room in an abandoned house in one of the grimier sections of town. This was her second experience at being kidnapped; the first had been at the hands of Shawn McClellan, a man she considered terrifying with his threatening scar and callous disregard of her apparent fear. He'd brought her to the edge of madness with his calculated indifference, cool logic, and gallows humor.

Now she considered his behavior generous, even warm, compared to the stark terror her current captors inspired. Shawn had been a living recognizable entity, a real live person. He'd talked to her, shown her his face, asked her questions, even tried, after an awkward fashion to explain her predicament. These men, three she believed, were just gravelly surly voices, none distinguishable from another. They weren't merely indifferent to her plight; they seemed to relish her fear, her dread.

These men had torn off her clothes, bound her with duct tape, and though short of outright rape, took liberal advantage of her helpless body, groping and pawing her like she was some stray animal. Their behavior was a far cry from the silk pajamas and delicate manacles of her first tormentor. She wondered how long it would take before these monsters actually did rape and kill her.

Quite a paradox, a humorless conundrum, Shawn she had seen as a monster, but in the presence of these men she understood the true meaning of the word.

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Shawn understood the reason for Susan's second abduction. She meant nothing to her captors. They wanted him. They knew he would come to her rescue, and indeed, that was the plan.

He had sped east in stolen cars to reach the new theater of action. He had no idea what the time frame was. He knew he had to move quickly before it was too late. He reasoned her life was on a short leash. His trusted friend and one time co-conspirator Kim had scoured the underworld landscape. Finding out where Susan was hidden was easy; they'd wanted him to know.

Armed with rudimentary knowledge he secured as much additional information as possible. Borrowing a gentleman's work uniform and truck he posed as a coca cola vendor supplying the innumerable small businesses that populated the neighborhood street corners. The coke delivery man he left safely secured in the back of the truck while he pretended to serve an imaginary clientele. Up and down the streets he drove, watching, listening, and noting everything he could.

The neighborhood, once an upscale Jewish community, was the perfect choice for would be assassins. It was overcrowded, forgotten, and now overwhelmingly minority. Shawn, a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant, stood out in the largely black and Hispanic population. Easily seen, he would have been an easy target.

The house where she was held couldn't have been more secure if it was Fort Knox. A large three storied dwelling, set in the middle of a substantial yard, it was surrounded by other equally decrepit structures. All had certainly been carved into several small rental units. Storming the house meant having to know which of the units was hers. It would have been incredibly difficult for an experienced invader, for a relative novice like Shawn the project was impossible. To succeed in saving Susan in these circumstances would have required perfect timing and a total understanding of the layout. Shawn simply lacked the ability.

Worse, his survey of the street revealed at least two additional outposts, one on the front street, and another across the alley. If he could reach the house they'd pin him down and kill him before he'd gained the front or back door.

He retreated from the neighborhood, released the coca cola man, thanked him, paid him some money, and drove off. He pounded the wheel of his car. He smashed his fist into the dashboard. He tore at his hair. Susan he mentally exclaimed, how am I ever going to get you out?

The more he stubbornly refused to surrender, the more he reflected on the futility of the situation, the more he realized what he had to do. He remembered an old adage, 'If one wanted to kill a snake, one had to cut off its head.' If he couldn't rescue Susan by direct assault, he had to find and destroy the nerve center behind her, and now his, torment.

The men guarding Susan worked for someone. He had to find out who it was, and run a counter kidnapping. He slapped himself on the back, and then laughed. He might find out who the chief Fagin was, but running a successful counter kidnapping was as hare brained as openly charging the building of Susan's captivity in broad daylight. Neither alternative was realistic. However, if he found out who the primary malefactor was, and found out where he lived, he might be able to break in. Once inside he might be able to negotiate a new arrangement. That was a possibility.

He needed time. Shawn considered the current situation. He'd make a couple threatening calls. They might deflect the enemy from his primary objective, for a little while anyway.

Yes, make a call threatening to harm her immediate overseers. Make it sound like he hadn't discovered where they were holding her. They'd fall for it. They'd believe he was as stupid as they were; that he lacked the intelligence to ascertain her whereabouts. That might give him some additional time.

Then he'd make a second threatening call to the original contractor; the man who'd been Susan's courtroom victim. He was a yellow son of a bitch, and he'd certainly light up the sky with calls for protection. The men in the syndicate would think Shawn was on a scavenger hunt; casting about for leads indiscriminately.

With additional time Shawn could accomplish his next primary tasks. If he was to buy Susan back a second time, he'd need more money, a lot more than the original $100,000.00. He'd also need to find out who was at the epicenter of the current scheme, where he lived, and how he might break in without being caught.

Shawn went back to his old farm house, currently the property of Kia and Kim. If he could negotiate some kind of trade they might agree to mortgage the farm long enough for him to get enough money. It wasn't his anymore, and it wasn't really his place to ask, but they might help this once anyway.

Shawn pulled up the driveway to his old home, got out, and knocked on the front door. Kia was there immediately. She asked, "How is it going?"

He responded, "Not good Kia. They've got her sewn up tight. It would take a battalion of marines to get her out."

Kia asked another question, "Then what's our next plan?"

He liked the way she said 'our next plan', "Kia?" He paused and took a breath, "I need something."

Kia waited.

"I need money. I need lots of money." He dropped the big one on her, "All I had was what I gave you and Kim." He hated himself for this, "Could you?"

Kia stopped him, "Come inside."

He followed her in. They must have known he was coming. The whole crew, all twelve of them were there. Kia went first, "How much money do you think you'll need?"

Shawn looked around the room. These were the people he'd worked with, some in Africa, and all in Asia. He couldn't take advantage of them. They were his most trusted friends, "I'm up against it. I have to save her. I can't explain why. It's just that." He was stumbling, "Well."

Kia stopped him, "I think you love her."

Shawn stood in front of the assembled group, all his closest friends, his most trusted colleagues, his chin pressed against his chest, on the verge of tears, "Yes I think that's true, but it's more. She has to live. I can't let this one go." He looked up at Kim and one of the African men, "You know how it is."

Kim smiled, "Is $400,000.00 enough? That's about all we could get together this quickly."

Shawn was about to break down. They weren't going to abandon him. He remembered the time they were working in the muck and mud of one of the many rivers in Thailand just across from Cambodia. A little girl had slipped from Kia's grasp and disappeared in the brown morass. He'd jumped in, found the little girl, and together they'd gotten her out. An African friend who later died of one of the many fevers that plagued that region had resuscitated her. When they'd last seen that precious little girl she had been happily playing with some other children. That's what he thought when Susan came to mind; another drowning child. He didn't deserve this kind of loyalty. He bucked up his courage, "I still have to find out who's behind her kidnapping, and who the primary malefactor is."

Kia pulled out a chair and pointed, "Sit down Shawn."

Kia started, "We're about three days ahead of you. Now listen here. We saw what you were up against." She sat beside him. She took his hand, "We're your friends Shawn. You're not alone. But let's look at this realistically; she's being held in a neighborhood made up mostly of black and brown people. You'll march into that neighborhood like the 101st Airborne Division, and you'll be spotted right away. They're counting on that. Most of us are either ethnically Asian or African. We can get in and out without drawing nearly as much attention.

Here's what we propose to do. We'll keep an eye on the house. Follow the occupants as they come and go. Sooner or later some one of them will slip up. We'll follow them, collar them, and with your help, persuade them to tell us what we need to know. Then either you or one of us can go and negotiate whatever it is needs to be done."

Shawn knew these people. He'd always loved them. He just never realized how much till now, "You've got $400,000.00?"

Kim smiled, "We got a lot more if the need arises."

Shawn asked, "So you'll track the guards, pick one up, then using enhanced interrogation techniques I'll uncover their leader's name and location."

Kia finished his thought, "Then you can go and close the deal."

Shawn looked around the room, "I need a drink."

Kim smiled, "Jim Beam over ice?'

Shawn grinned fiercely, "Nice!"

Kia led Shawn upstairs and put him to bed in the same room he'd called home a few short months before, the same bed Susan had occupied, the same bed Shawn had used when taking advantage of her. As he laid there, his head on a soft clean fresh pillow he wondered what it was like for Susan. Did she know people were working on her behalf? Did she know he was desperately in love? He wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking about him? Did she ever think about him?

For the first time in years Shawn knelt beside a bed and prayed. He thanked God for friends. He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for Susan. He prayed for help. He hadn't felt this helpless in years.

Not that many miles away a terribly frightened young woman was lying abed on dirty soiled sheets. She was oh so tired, but much too fearful to sleep. Every sound terrified her. She remembered from her private school days how water bugs made a distinctive sound as they scrabbled across the floor. She'd been told water bugs were just a genre of roach. It made her skin crawl as she heard them slither across the floor now. She was certain they were in the bed with her. She felt their awful light footed tread across her legs and arms. She tried to remember her science classes. Did roaches have feet? She squirmed and flinched as she felt an occasional bite.

It was so humid in the room. Why was it so hot and humid so late in the year? She had to pee. She decided to hold it as long as she could. If one of the men came in and saw or smelled her urine they might get mad.

She thought about Shawn. She'd been so afraid of him. She used to be afraid he'd hurt her. How silly and how ancient that all seemed now. She wondered what the IQ levels of the men outside her room might be. She bet at least one was functioning on a subhuman level. What if one of them was a crack baby? She'd read about them, their inability to empathize. The more she thought the more frightened she became. She had to get control of herself. If she didn't she'd soon be nonfunctional.

Outside her dark sordid little prison she heard the men talk. The low steely sound of their voices grated on her partially covered ears. She tried to hear what they were saying, but was half afraid she actually might understand them. She wondered what could be worse, hearing as she was without understanding, or hearing and understanding.

Susan had other things on her mind as well. She'd been living in a world of denial till two weeks ago. She'd never been particularly regular regarding her menstrual cycle, but after twelve weeks she couldn't deny it. The slow weight gain, the increasing tightness of her clothing, and the occasional nausea could only spell one thing.

When she finally decided to go to the doctors he confirmed her worst fears. Imagine, having unprotected sex just once. Of course, a baby didn't fit into her career plans. At first she decided on an abortion. Then she reconsidered. Lots of women who weren't married had babies and were quite successful at managing a child and a career. It might even be an asset. People would admire her independence.

It was Shawn's baby, but he'd never know. For sure, she was certain she'd never see him again anyway. Even if she did, even if he found out she had a child and correctly surmised it was his, it wouldn't matter. He had no claim on her, and he'd certainly have no claim on her child. He probably wouldn't care anyway. But what if he did? He might? The way the laws worked now he'd have every right to visit. What would she do about that? Would she fight him?

She thought about the movie they'd watched together, the one with Natalie Wood and Steve McQueen. There was a chance he might want to be a part of her baby's life. She reflected on how he'd brushed her hair. He'd been nice to her that night. He'd been gentle. Why did he have to say that stuff about cutting her up? That was so out of character from everything else he'd done.

Judging from what she'd found out, he'd probably be a pretty good Dad. He'd helped all those poor people in those backward places. Heck she thought. They might even be able to work something out where they could raise the child jointly. She had to get out of here!

She wondered where Shawn might be. She wondered if he had a clue about her terrible situation. She wondered of he'd even care if he did know. She desperately hoped he knew. She clung to the hope he might be out there somewhere. Working to get her free; trying to save her. She knew she was snatching at straws. She wished with all her might that he was out there, fighting to save her. She curled ever more tightly into a fetal position. Oh please Shawn. Shawn I need you.

Laying there in that dirty bed, in that awful room, surrounded by dirty bugs and dirty men Susan started to have feelings she hadn't had in a while. In fact the last time she'd had such feelings was when Shawn had burst her bubble about her life. She remembered that day vividly, the day he'd reduced her personal life to a damned cat.

Poor Tom! He was alone in her apartment. He was probably hungry. She bet his litter was dirty. Had she put the toilet seat down? If she had, by now he'd have nothing to drink. She thought about Tom. She thought about Shawn. She wanted to cry, but considering the duct tape, tears would only make things worse. She felt so alone. She missed not being able to hold her cat.

She thought about Shawn again. He'd spent $100,000.00 to keep her alive. He defied the syndicate. He looked like such a lonely little boy in that picture. She remembered some of the holidays she'd spent all alone. She made a promise to herself and to whoever it was growing inside her. They would never be lonely. She took her taped up hands and touched her stomach. She told herself, I'm not alone. Those evil men in the other room think I'm all alone. They don't know there's someone else in here with me. I have to be strong, I'm fighting for two now. From now on it's two, not just one.

She almost broke down again. She whimpered to herself, 'Oh Shawn make it three. Make it be three.' In her mind in her heart she kept thinking there had been Steve and Natalie and a baby; Shawn and Susan, and oh please, please!

Susan prayed. It wasn't something she was accustomed to doing, but she did it. Oh please God help me get through this. Help me raise this baby. What was it Shawn had said that day? She'd never gone to church. She promised God, help me get out of this and I'll go to church every Sunday. I'll take my baby to church. She knew people weren't supposed to bargain with God, but she meant it. She really would.

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Shawn was back on the road the next morning. A decent meal a good night's sleep, and change of clothes had done a world of good. His next objective was to go after the cowardly adulterer whose phone call had originally started the whole mess. He tracked down the man's house, parked the car, went up the front sidewalk and knocked on the door. It was just after 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning. A groggy housewife answered the doorbell.

Shawn wedged his foot between the door and the frame, "Do you know who I am?"

The woman was taken aback, "No, and get your foot out of my doorway."

He didn't budge. "You better get a good look at me. I'm a friend of Susan Slattery's."

The woman blushed, "The lawyer?" She started fidgeting, "What do you want with me?"

Shawn didn't pull any punches, "I'm a professional killer."

The woman tried to push the door closed. "You better get away from here. I'm going to call the police."

Shawn didn't budge, "I was hired by your husband to murder Susan Slattery. Did you know

that?"

She wanted to push him away, but she couldn't get his foot out of the door, "I'm calling the police." She left the door and started inside, presumably to find a phone.

Shawn followed, "Is you husband here? I have business with him."

The woman had found a phone and had hit 911. Shawn wasn't deterred, "You know he paid

people to hire me to kill Susan. I'm sure you've read the papers. She's gone missing."

The woman still held the phone in her hand, but had pushed the button turning the cell off. "I don't know who you are, or what you're talking about."

He repeated, "Your husband paid $10,000.00 to have Susan Slattery murdered. I was hired for the job, but didn't do it. I gave your husband $180,000.00 to pay his contact to leave her alone. He paid them $100,000.00 and kept the rest. That was months ago. Now Ms. Slattery is missing again. You see they don't want her, though she's probably already dead. They want me."

Both people heard a noise at the top of the stairs. They looked up. It was the woman's husband. He saw Shawn and ran for the back of the house. Shawn jumped up the steps two at a time, chased him down the hall caught him, grabbed him by the nape of the neck, and yanked him backwards till he fell on the floor.

The man's wife followed Shawn up the steps.

The cowardly man called to his wife, "Get the police."

The woman stopped and stared at her husband, "No. I don't think so." She'd about had it with her husband anyway. She looked at Shawn, then at her frightened husband, "Tell me more."

Shawn gave her an abbreviated version of what the situation was with some modest embellishments. The crucial modifications to his story involved what he planned to do to her husband, her, and her children if they didn't cooperate. He explained what he wanted. He needed the names of her husband's contacts, and if at all possible some addresses.

The whole time Shawn spoke only to the woman, not the man. He was polite and controlled. She was a handsome woman, and she was obviously better than the man squirming on the floor. She was an attentive listener. She had to be, her three children were involved. He could tell she was afraid, but she maintained her poise. The man on the other hand was a coward; something of a squirrel. Shawn kept him on his knees by crushing the fingers of his right hand with his left. Twice Shawn had to break a finger to keep him down. Each time a finger cracked the man cried out. The woman winced the first time, but the second time she seemed to enjoy what was happening to her husband.