A Symphony in Blue
Chapter 8
Young Adam Svenson was working
frenetically.
He couldn’t remember ever having
been so afraid in all his young life.
Nor so desperate. He didn’t know
what would happen to him. Neither did he
know how much time he had to work on those ropes tying his hands. If he was to have any chance of escape, he
had to get rid of them.
Adam was in the hands of a ruthless
man, he was perfectly aware of that.
Since the moment he had struck him so violently in that van, Wilson
Grover had demonstrated it very clearly.
Adam’s head had still been reeling from that first wallop when he had
woken up in this God-forsaken place.
That’s when he had noticed that his hands had been bound together in
front of him; but he wasn’t able to reach his face, his arms being secured
against his body, leaving little freedom of movement. He couldn’t see a thing; there was a blindfold covering his
eyes. Another piece of cloth, pushed
into his mouth, prevented him from speaking.
He felt bad, sick in the stomach.
The place and the thin mattress he was lying upon had a strong reek of
damp and stale sweat upon it. That was
almost too much to bear.
Then Adam had heard the echo of a
bolt being pulled back and the creak of a door opening. That was Grover coming, and Adam’s heart,
already filled with worry and fear, knew complete terror. The man had approached him to tell him what
it was he wanted from him. From his
father, to be more precise. “Your dad’s
gonna make me rich, kid,” Grover had said with a cackle. “It was easier than I thought it would
be. I was gonna use your little
brother, but I couldn’t’ve hoped for a better chance than the one you gave
me. Thanks a lot. I really appreciate this.”
He had removed the gag from the
boy’s mouth, so he could breathe properly.
Adam tried to plead with him, begging him to let him go, swearing that
he wouldn’t tell anybody anything. The
boy’s voice shook with fear and terror; he would have promised anything just to
get out of that place and back to the safety of his home. But Grover was adamant.
“D’you really think I went to ALL
that trouble just to let you go now?” he had snapped in a hissing tone.
“Please, let me go… Nobody will
know. I promise, I won’t say a thing!”
“Of course you won’t.”
With that mocking answer, Adam knew
that Grover would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. And it was pretty clear now what would
happen to him… Adam’s heart missed a
beat. He was a bright boy. He realized that Grover wouldn’t let him go after
this, since he knew perfectly well who his kidnapper was. The man couldn’t take that chance. It was too risky. The boy would have to disappear.
At this realization, Adam became so
desperate that he found himself shouting for help, right in front of a startled
Grover. He knew that Grover would
eventually make him stop shouting, but he was hoping somebody would hear him
before that, and call the police.
“Stop that, kid!” Grover’s growling order hadn’t reached the
panicky young boy and he continued to call for help. Blindfolded as he was, he couldn’t see Grover coming to him and
striking him a violent backhand that sent him flat on the mattress,
half-stunned. “I said stop that!”
Grover added furiously. “ What do you
hope to accomplish? There’s nobody
around to hear you! You’re alone,
kid. There’s nobody to help you!”
That hadn’t stopped Adam having one
last try. Grover’s hand was swift to
silence him. “I hate shouting!” the man
shouted in turn. “My old man was always
shouting at me! He couldn’t stop. But I stopped him! I stopped him all right!
Now, you’re gonna keep quiet! Or
I swear to you, you’ll regret it!”
A couple more brutal slaps almost
completely stunned the young boy and left him moaning in pain and distress on
the mattress. Grumbling with bad
humour, Grover had gone away, slamming the door behind him and fastening the
bolt again. Through a daze, Adam had
heard his steps fading away, until he couldn’t hear them anymore.
He wasn’t sure if he had lost
consciousness at that moment, from the combination of despair, fear and
pain. The only thing he was sure about
was that he woke up again, and that there seemed to be a blank in his
mind. There was an unpleasant salty
taste in his mouth, as if he had cried, but he didn’t remember having done
that. It could be blood too, he
reminded himself, and the thought had the effect of making him redouble his
efforts to free himself.
He had found a nail, protruding from
a wall against which his mattress had been placed. Adam had been trying to use it to undo his bonds for what now
seemed to him an eternity. He could
feel the ropes biting deeply into his wrists and tightening around his body;
the rough surface of the wall was painfully scraping the skin from his hands,
as he rubbed them feverishly against the nail.
It hurt him a lot. He bit his
lip so as not to cry out, but there was little he could do not to let an
occasional grunt escape him.
The wall he was leaning against
didn’t seem to be very thick; he could hear a television on the other
side. And from time to time, footsteps,
which seemed to be approaching him. He
was wondering if it was Grover coming back to visit him again, and the mere
notion sent a shiver down his spine.
But no, he had realised suddenly.
Those footsteps weren’t Grover’s.
Grover had a heavy step; the other one was quieter. From a different, much lighter person. And when Adam heard a sigh – a definitely
feminine sigh – he understood that he was right. There was a woman out there; probably Grover’s accomplice.
That person never came into the room
where the prisoner was; always, she had turned away and left. Adam only heard her; Grover, wherever he
was, didn’t seem to be around. The boy,
even while wondering where he could be, wasn’t complaining in the least about
that fact. Grover frightened him.
Time passed, with Adam still trying
to work on his bonds. He didn’t feel as
if he was making the slightest progress, but he wasn’t giving up. He couldn’t afford to.
That’s when he heard, through the
wall, a door being opened and slammed violently. He almost jumped in dreadful surprise; the footsteps he was now
hearing were those of a man. His heart
missed a beat, when the voice of Grover reached him:
“Has the kid been behaving himself?”
“Why have you been so long?” a
woman’s voice answered with a nervous catch to it. “I was beginning to get very worried, Will. I was wondering…”
“If I’d been caught? Naaa… There’s no danger of that, believe
me! Nobody would suspect me.”
All of a sudden, Adam felt the ropes
around his wrists coming loose; feverishly, he shook them off and finally
succeeded in untying his hands completely.
He could hardly move them, they hurt him so much. But now wasn’t the time to stop. He proceeded to try to get rid of the loop
of rope that held his arms against his body.
With his hands now free, it was a lot easier.
He could still hear Grover, on the
other side of the wall, as he gave a low chuckle. “Would you believe it?
Svenson thinks his kid has run away!
He figures the boy was so angry at him that he chose that way to get
back at him!”
“So nobody suspects…?”
“Not at the moment, anyway. The kid’s folks think they’ll hear from him,
sooner or later. Svenson is furious.”
“Why did you have to go back there,
Will? You know it could be dangerous!”
“No. It would have been dangerous if I hadn’t gone. If I’d disappeared at the same time as the
kid, someone might have suspected me… And
anyway, I had to keep up with what was going on. For the moment, I can say it’s pretty safe.”
“That won’t last, Will. When the boy doesn’t come back in the
morning, his parents will suspect something is wrong. They’ll alert the police…”
“Don’t you think I know that,
Marsha? Don’t worry, I tell you. I’ll make my move before there’s any danger
for us.”
“What… what are you going to do?”
Adam had finally succeeded in
getting free of the ropes. Marsha’s
voice, he had noticed, was still very nervous.
She had a beautiful voice, strangely soft, compared with that of Will
Grover. Not at all a voice the boy would
have associated with a kidnapper.
“You must be VERY careful,
Will. If you get caught…”
“I don’t intend getting caught. Now, please calm down. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Adam had now removed his
blindfold. Not that it helped him in
any way, he realised immediately; the room he was in was almost pitch black;
almost no light at all entered it, except for a very faint ray coming from a
small hole on the very wall he was so close to. Adam carefully approached that hole and put his eye to it, trying
to get a glimpse of the other side. He
couldn’t see much; only a modest kitchen table, a counter with a sink, and a
couple of chairs.
Then she came into view; a young
woman with dark hair. She walked toward
the counter, to pick up a cup. All the
while her eyes, filled with worry and sadness, were looking in the same
direction.
“I still think all this is a very
bad idea,” she then said, nervously turning the cup in her hands. “Will, we’ll live to regret this, I feel
it.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing,
honey,” the voice of Grover answered smoothly.
“Nothing can go wrong! We’ll
have the money. More money than you
ever dreamed of! And then, my darling,
we’ll live the GOOD life! Thanks to
that spoiled little brat!” He paused,
before continuing. “How is he? Seems quiet enough…”
Adam shivered and nearly jumped on
hearing that remark; he caught himself just in time to hold back a gasp of
complete outrage.
“I haven’t heard anything from him
for hours,” Marsha sighed tiredly.
“Since you went out, actually.”
“Bet he learned to keep his head
down, since I had my talk with him,” Grover cackled wickedly.
“It’s not funny, Will,” Marsha
protested with an annoyed frown. “You
shouldn’t have hit him like that.”
“Well, it did the trick, didn’t it?”
The troubled look Adam saw in the
woman’s features made it clear enough to him that she didn’t agree with
Grover. The latter cleared his throat,
and walked toward the woman. Adam saw
him appearing in his field of view.
“It’s time now to let those people
know what’s happened,” Grover declared, taking Marsha’s cup. “Time to show them what’s happened to their
kid and what they have to do to get him back.”
“And what will you do, exactly?”
“I have it all figured it out. I’m going to leave a message for Svenson, in
a way they would never relate to me.”
“How?”
“You’ll see.” Adam saw the thoughtful look of Grover as he
took a sip from his cup. The cruel
twinkle he could see in those eyes, even at this distance, sent shivers down
the boy’s spine. “I’ll need something
from the boy, something that belongs to him, to send to his folks. Say, that cap he was wearing when I brought
him in…”
Nervously, Adam looked around. His eyes had quickly adapted to the darkness
in this room. He found, on the mattress
where he had been lying, the object in question. The Red Sox cap his father had given to him some days ago;
strangely, that was the one he had chosen to wear to the game his father had
forbidden him to go to. He couldn’t
explain to himself exactly why.
Adam reached for the cap, picked it
up and pressed it against himself, as if it had been the most precious treasure
in the world to him, at the moment. He
then noticed, with horror, the sorry state of his hands, all scratched, and
covered with blood, following his recent efforts to get himself free of his
bonds. They were sore and numb, and he
had trouble flexing his fingers.
Nevertheless, seeing them like that gave him a crazy idea.
“I think it’s with the boy,” he
heard the voice of Marsha say, making him jump nervously. “I’ll go fetch it for you.”
“No need. I’ll go myself.”
Adam heard the heavy steps of Grover
approach. Apprehensively, he searched
the darkness with his eyes, and found the door; at that exact moment, he heard
the bolt being pulled back and saw the door open, with a creaking sound. A little more light entered the room,
surrounding the powerfully built silhouette of Will Grover.
The big man saw the boy, crouching
there next to the mattress, leaning against the wall, staring at him with his
blue eyes screwed up against the sudden increase in light, and pressing
something against his chest with both hands.
He gave a faint chuckle, and nodded quietly.
“I see you got rid of your ropes,
kid. You’re resourceful, I’ll give you
that.”
He entered the room. It had a very low ceiling, about five feet
high, Adam then noted; it probably was some kind of big closet. It was too low for Grover to stand upright;
he had to stoop in order to get in.
Adam backed away, as Grover stepped toward him; he kept his eyes fixed
on him.
“You don’t have to worry, kid. I just want…” Grover stopped right away, as he just had spotted what it was
that Adam was clutching in his hands.
He gave a devilish grin, and indicated the object with a demanding
finger. “That’s exactly what I want, in
fact. Gimme that cap, kid.”
Adam kept his distance; he didn’t
make a move toward Grover, nor did he give any intention whatsoever of wanting
to obey. There was a glitter of
defiance in his blue eyes, now. The
man’s brow furrowed deeply.
“I advise you not to make it
difficult for me, kid,” he told the boy with a warning tone. “I’m not patient. Now you give me that cap right away or…
Instead of obeying, Adam suddenly
went deeper into the darkness of the room, as far away from Grover as possible;
the man was totally taken aback.
“Kid! Come back here!”
He went further into the room,
growling with anger, searching the shadows for his quarry, but keeping himself
between Adam and the door. It took him
some seconds, but he found the boy, rather easily, curled up in the farthest
corner, keeping his cap close against him, trying his best to protect it from
the man who wanted to take it away from him.
“Give me that, kid,” Grover demanded
again, approaching the boy.
“NO!”
The cry of complete anger and
outrage from Adam took Grover completely by surprise, especially when he saw
the youngster suddenly lurching at him.
Because he was standing in a rather precarious position, Grover lost his
balance and fell on his knees, away from the door. Adam couldn’t believe his luck.
For a fleeting second, he thought he had the chance to run from this
dreadful place, away from that horrible man, and his evil plans.
Grover’s hand roughly caught his
ankle and held it tight; Adam lost his footing and fell heavily, face first on
the floor. He wrapped his arms round
his head to protect it, the best he could.
His forearms, and his already sore hands took the full brunt of the
fall, and he grunted in pain. Still, he
wasn’t giving in. He started kicking
the face of the man holding him down, hoping to make him let go.
“Enough, kid! Stop that right now!”
Adam wasn’t about to obey. He could see the danger he was in, so he had
nothing to lose by trying to get away.
He was just too desperate.
“I said, that’s enough!”
This time, Adam saw Grover’s big
hand coming right at his face. He tried
to avoid it, but was too slow. It
caught him over the left ear; the impact was such that it made his ears
ring. He sprawled on the floor, half
knocked out.
Panting, Grover got to his feet; he
ran a hand across his face and then down his jaw, and grunted in disgust; the
kid had landed at least one blow hard enough to draw blood. He spat some blood on the floor.
“You little twerp!” he growled with
fury. “I’m gonna teach you…”
“Will!”
That was the woman – Marsha –
standing in the door way, who was looking down at the scene with a dreadful
expression on her face. Adam weakly
raised his head and his eyes met hers, with a desperate, pleading message.
“P-please, help me,” he begged in a
murmur.
He could see the eyes of the woman
trembling, but it was all he was able to see.
Grover was over him, and dealt him another strong wallop across the
face, that sent his head reeling. “Shut
up, you little creep! I don’t wanna
hear another word from you!”
“Will, stop this!” Marsha suddenly
shouted in protest. “You’re hurting
him!”
“Damn right, I’m hurting him!” Grover tore the cap from Adam’s now weak
grasp and tossed it toward Marsha.
There was uncontrolled fury in his eyes, now, as he stared at the young
woman. “Take that away, and keep it a
moment. I won’t be long.”
The intense way he was looking down
at the half-stunned boy at his feet made his intentions all too clear. Marsha felt the fear creeping inside her and
blanched instantly.
“No!” she protested. “Will, he’s just a boy! You can’t…”
“Mind your own business!” Grover
barked at the young woman, his face red with anger. “This is between him and me!
Get in the other room and keep yourself busy!”
Distraught, Adam saw Marsha close
her mouth, without any more protest and she disappeared from his view. He was in deep trouble now, he knew it. He was so very afraid, and he could feel his
heartbeat increasing within his chest.
“That was a very stupid thing to do,
kid!”
The growling sound of Grover’s voice
made Adam look up; the big man was standing over him. Even in the dim light of the room, the young boy could see the
flash of anger in his eyes, the way his lower jaw was tightening and the evil
smirk curling his thin lips.
“Do you really think you could take
me for a fool like that?” Grover continued ominously, sending a shiver down the
boy’s spine. “You need a lesson,
kid. You need to learn respect. If your dad was unable to teach you, I’m
gonna do it.” He cracked his knuckles,
nodding with a satisfactory expression of anticipation over his face. “Just like my old man used to do!”
Adam’s features became white; the
fear within him mounted again and he could feel his heartbeat still increasing.
The next thing he saw was the big
hands of Will Grover coming to grab him…
* * *
Captain Blue woke
up with a start; that flashback, so vivid in his mind… That was exactly as he
was reliving it now. The beating he had
taken as a kid at the hands of Will Grover, so many years ago, had been a very painful
one. It didn’t matter to Grover that he
was striking a nine-year-old boy. The
memory of it was absolutely horrible, and had haunted Adam long after it had
actually happened. With time, he had
managed to somehow dismiss it from his memory, but still it had never
completely left him. He just had no
idea how painfully present it still was.
Blue ached all
over. Grover had not held back, and had
relished every single blow he had laid on the defenceless man. He had beaten his prisoner, until he couldn’t
keep himself upright. Then Blue had
lost consciousness, waking only now. He
could hardly move, and still hung limply from that rope. Yet, he could feel the floor underneath his
dragging feet. Unsteadily, he made an
effort to get his footing, grunting under the efforts demanded of his aching
body. That’s when he noticed that
something was covering his mouth, similar to what he had over his eyes.
He heard movement
nearby, and voices murmuring; instantly, Blue pricked up his ears, trying to
catch on what was going on. Grover was there, all right, with somebody else;
they were busy discussing setting something up, apparently, as Blue heard the
clicking sounds of buttons being pushed.
“Right, that’s how
you use that thing,” he heard the voice of Grover say. “Be sure to wait for my signal before
switching it on. I want the surprise to
be complete.”
Blue was wondering
what it could be all about; he moved on his feet, and checked the strength of
his bonds. He grunted under the gag, as
he felt the rope biting into his already abraded wrists.
“Awake now, kid?”
Blue had barely
heard the limping step of Grover approaching him. The man stopped in front of him; the captain could feel his
presence as well as he could smell the cigarette he was smoking. Despise his rather precarious position, Blue
made a threatening step forward, only to be stopped by the rope. He heard Grover’s derisive gloat in answer
to his vain attempt.
“Got to hand it to
you, you’ve grown up tough, Svenson.”
There was a short pause, that Grover used to pull on his cigarette; then
he blew a mouthful of smoke right into his prisoner’s face. Blue grunted with annoyance, trying to
escape it. “Right,” Grover continued,
“now that you’re back with us, kid, we can proceed. I hope you won’t mind, but I’ll do the talking. At least at the beginning. Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance too, in
a short while.”
The only answer
Captain Blue was able to make was an angry and very frustrated grunt, as he
tried once again to reach for his tormentor, quite uselessly. He couldn’t do anything to stop him from
doing what he was planning…
* * *
John Svenson was a
genuine workaholic.
He had come into
his office at “Svenson and Sons” in Boston at exactly 5:30AM and didn’t plan to
leave until nine in the evening. There
was important business to attend to, and accounts to check, and he intended to
have it all done before leaving for the comfort of his home. His son Peter – who had certainly inherited
some of his father’s flair for finance – worked in another office, not far from
John’s, on a similar task, but John trusted only himself to handle some of the
more important files of the company.
There were clients and business partners that only John Svenson himself
would handle. Neither he nor they would
have it any other way.
He loved every
minute of his work. He only really felt
alive when he was under pressure like at this precise moment. He had instructed Tracy, his secretary, not
to disturb him under any circumstances, unless she deemed it to be very important. He always trusted Tracy to make a good
judgement about that, and never once did she disappoint him.
The morning had
passed quickly, and Svenson, after an hour’s lunch break that he took with a
business partner, discussing a new account, came back to continue his work at
his office. He was about half way
through an important report when the intercom on his desk buzzed; without doing
more than looking at it and without stopping work on his report, Svenson frowned,
and pressed a button. “What is it,
Tracy?”
“The important
call you were waiting for from the West Coast, sir.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it right away.”
He cut the
intercom and, putting his pen down, pushed the button for the hands-free phone
speaker. At about the same moment, he
realised that he actually wasn’t waiting for any important call from the West
Coast. He picked up his pen again,
sighing with irritation.
“Mister Svenson,
how nice to talk to you,” came a cheerful-sounding voice over the speaker.
“You have about
three minutes to explain to me why you have called me under false pretences,
sir,” Svenson stated roughly, continuing to write. “After that, I’m hanging up.
I’m a very busy man, and I don’t like to be disturbed for nothing.”
“So you haven’t
changed much over the years.”
Svenson signed his
name before closing the folder in front of him. “Do I know you?” he asked.
“We met, a long
time ago.”
“Who are you?”
“Don’t you
recognise my voice?”
Svenson furrowed
his brow. “I don’t have time to play
games, mister. If I had recognised your
voice, do you think I would have asked your name? Now state your business.
You have less than two minutes.”
“My business…
Well, I have something to offer you. In
exchange for a… small remuneration.”
“You have gone to
all this trouble to sell me something?” Svenson sighed, annoyed. “I’m about to hang up, sir.”
“Please
don’t. You’ll regret passing up an
opportunity like this.”
“Sir, whoever you
are, I can assure you, there’s nothing you can offer me that I haven’t been
offered before. I’m pretty sure you
don’t have anything that could be of interest to me.”
“What about your
son?”
“I’m sure he won’t
be interested either. We are
financiers, sir, not commodity traders.
I’m sorry, but as I said, I’m a busy man. Your three minutes are up.
Have a good day, sir.”
Svenson was about
to press the button to end the communication, when he heard the man suddenly
shouting into the speaker: “Put down that phone, and your son is dead!”
Svenson froze in
mid-movement. He blanched, upon hearing
the harsh words, not sure what to do next.
“Peter?” he murmured, almost without really thinking. He shrugged and shook his head, dismissing
the thought. Now he was starting to get
very angry. “I saw my son not half an
hour ago! He was in his office and
seemed quite fine! What kind of sick
game are you playing, mister?”
“You asked me the
same question, twenty-five years ago.”
The remark was
followed by a cackle that sent a shiver down Svenson’s spine. That was a sound he had heard before... A sound that had pursued him for a long time
in his most nightmarish dreams.
He couldn’t forget
it.
“Grover,” he
whispered. “Wilson Grover. That’s you, isn’t it?”
“Ah! So you recognize my voice.”
“I’ll never forget
your voice, you despicable bastard,” Svenson snapped with obvious disgust in
his tone. “I thought you died in
prison.”
“You would think
that. Heck, you even did your best to
make sure it would happen!”
“What do you
want?” Svenson suddenly interrupted.
“Don’t you have a
LITTLE idea about that?”
Svenson’s brow
furrowed. “If it’s about that hollow
threat against my son Peter…”
“I’m not
interested in Peter,” Grover cut in.
“If I recall correctly, you have more than one son, Mister Svenson.”
Svenson’s frown
deepened. His youngest, David, was away
somewhere in France, for what he called a ‘cultural trip’ with a bunch of his
friends. He was pretty sure that,
wherever David might be, Grover could not reach him.
No. It wasn’t about David either. Svenson was pretty sure that only one of his
sons would be of interest to Will Grover.
“Adam?” He snorted slightly. “I don’t even know where he is, but I’m
pretty sure he’s out of your reach. You
can’t hurt him this time.”
“You’re so sure
about that, are you?” Grover paused,
before continuing: “Are you in front of your computer?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’ve got
something to show you. Plug your phone
into it.”
“Grover, I’m
warning you –“
“It’s me who’s
warning you, Svenson! Hook up that damn
phone! And don’t worry about a thing: we’re
already online, waiting for you to join in!”
A bad feeling
began to make its way inside Svenson’s mind; he could tell Grover was up to
something, but he was almost afraid of what it could actually be. He turned to his desktop computer and obeyed
Grover’s demand. Svenson was about to
enter a command so the computer would take charge of the current phone
communication, when he saw an image beginning to form before his eyes. He was wondering how Grover had managed to
actually hook himself to the computer, when the screen gave him the image of
the man, standing in a dark room, a cordless phone to his ear, looking directly
at him.
“You look a lot
older,” Svenson noted, narrowing his eyes.
“Why, thanks!”
Grover responded, grinning. “I wish I
could tell you the same, but as this is a one-way image transmission, I
can’t. Which is too bad, I’d love to
see your face now. By the way, don’t
bother to record this. It won’t be of
any use to you.”
“I won’t.” That didn’t stop Svenson from entering a new
command on his computer keyboard, thus instructing his computer to begin
recording, unbeknown to Grover.
“You better sit
tight, Johnny,” Grover continued, “I’m sure you’ll be quite surprised at what
you’re gonna see!”
He nodded toward
the camera operator and the angle of the picture changed… And John Svenson discovered with shock that
his dreadful feeling about all this was even worse than he had first imagined.
He saw a tall,
battered blond man hanging heavily from his bound hands. His mouth and eyes were covered with duct
tape, soiled with blood from multiple cuts, and his face was heavily
bruised. By the look of his clothes,
all loose and torn up, and dirty from sweat and blood, the man had recently
been at the receiving end of a particularly harsh beating.
The blond hair,
height and general features of the man were more than enough for Svenson to
recognize him. He blanched
instantly. He jumped to his feet, his
eyes wide open with untold horror, glued to the screen. “My God!
Adam!”
How could that be possible? thought
Svenson. The last time he had heard
from Adam, he was still stationed at Cloudbase, whatever and wherever that
was. One thing he thought for certain
was that that place was probably the safest spot on Earth.
And now, Adam was
there – in the hands of Will Grover.
Again, like so
many years ago.
“What have you
done to him?”
For an awfully,
horrible instant, the thought that Adam could be dead before his eyes came
creeping inside Svenson’s mind. But
then he saw him raise his head and move, struggling against his restraints, and
heard him grunting through his gag.
John Svenson let out a sigh of relief.
He then saw Grover appear next to his captive; he didn’t have the phone
in hand. Must have connected it up to the main machine, Svenson mused,
when he heard the man address him again.
“So, do I have
your attention now?” An evil grin
curved Grover’s lips, as he looked thoughtfully at his prisoner. That did nothing to reassure Svenson. “I suppose NOW you know what I was planning
to offer you.”
“Don’t you hurt
him, Grover,” Svenson croaked.
“Ah… But I don’t
plan to. Not just yet, anyway. Maybe later, it’ll depend on the agreement
we make, you and me.” Grover turned
again his attention toward Blue, musing.
“Now what do you have to say about this, Adam, my boy? I’m really curious to know.”
He violently
yanked off the length of tape covering Blue’s mouth. The latter let out a cry of pain and pure outrage. John Svenson winced. He saw his son taking only one second to
regain his breath.
“Father! Don’t agree to ANYTHING!”
“Now, now, Adam…
That’s unkind,” Grover admonished his prisoner with a false note of kindness in
his tone. He pulled Blue by the hair
and forced him to turn toward the camera.
The younger man made a commendable effort to resist, in vain. Svenson could see his eldest son’s face
covered with bruises, blood running down from his nose. It was a wonder he hadn’t choked earlier,
with that gag on.
“He’s still the
cocky, arrogant little kid he was, twenty-five years ago, huh, Johnny-Boy?”
Grover said, chuckling. “And he’s grown
big and strong… You must really be proud of him!”
“You madman,”
Svenson whispered. “Let him go!”
“Not so fast, my
friend.” Grover gave a quiet look at
Blue, before releasing him brutally, pushing his head back. “As you can see, your boy still has plenty
of fire in him…”
Svenson swallowed
hard. “Where did you find him? How did you…”
“Oh, quite by
chance, actually. It’s really, really
weird, you know. I passed the better
part of the past year looking for him, and never finding him. And then, yesterday, he literally fell into
my lap. Driving around the Nevada
desert with his girlfriend.”
“The Nevada
desert?”
Svenson frowned,
wondering what the hell Adam was doing in Nevada. Must be
for his damned Spectrum job, he thought grimly.
“What do you want
from him? Didn’t you do him enough harm
when he was a boy?”
“Would you rather
I went after one of your other two boys?” Grover asked wickedly. Behind him, upon hearing his words, Blue
lifted his heavy head. “Or after your
daughter, for that matter? Now what’s
her name… Kathy?”
Svenson paled. How could that maniac could even imply that HE should
choose which of his children would end up in his hands? He could see that Adam was having his own
reaction to Grover’s hateful statement.
He made a sound that resembled a growl as he struggled, trying to reach
Grover.
“Keep away from my
family, you bastard!”
Almost instantly,
Grover turned around and brutally punched his prisoner in the side; with a yelp
of pain, Blue slumped back, knocked off his feet by the vicious and unexpected
blow; he would have fallen to the floor, if the rope keeping him standing had
not stopped him. Svenson blanched at
the sight.
“No, stop!” he
yelled.
Grover didn’t seem
to hear him. “Thanks for volunteering,
kid!” he cackled wickedly, addressing the stunned Blue. “Doing your job as a protective big brother,
I see. Well, your brothers and sister
should be grateful to you…” He hit his
captive in the face, knocking him sideways.
Blue wasn’t in any position to avoid the blow. It was all he could do not to lose consciousness. Witnessing it all, John Svenson, in complete
disarray, was biting his whitened knuckles.
“Stop that!” he
repeated, anguish in his voice. “You’re
hurting him!”
“That’s the
general idea.” Grover turned back to
the camera. A dazed Blue dangled at the
end of his rope, moaning faintly. “Now,
concerning this business of ours, Johnny…”
“What is it you
want?” Svenson murmured.
“You, of all
people, should know what I want from you and your boy. It’s the reason why I went after HIM,
instead of one of your other kids. That
would have been easy, really. But it
was Adam I wanted. He owes me. Like you do.”
“He owes you? Why?” a revolted Svenson replied. “Because you kidnapped him when he was a
nine year old child and then tried to ransom him? Because your plan failed miserably, you got caught and went to
jail?”
“It was a perfect
plan!” Grover snapped. “It failed
because your kid messed things up! And
because you didn’t follow instructions and went to the police!”
“And what would
you have had me do?” Svenson scoffed.
“My boy was in the hands of a maniac who had threatened to kill
him! And seeing the state he was in
when the police found him, I was right to call them in. You would have killed him anyway!”
“That mistake,
alerting the police, I’d advise you NOT to make this time, Svenson!” Grover
retorted ominously. “Because what I did
to your boy back then will be NOTHING compared to what I’m ready to do NOW!”
Svenson shivered
and found the need to sit down; his hands were sweating and shaking. He swallowed hard, his eyes riveted on the
disturbing image of his battered son, now apparently too weak to even stand on
his feet. “I see you’ve already made a
start,” he said weakly.
“Just to show you
how serious I am, this time,” Grover said rather quietly.
“WHAT do you want,
exactly?”
“You’re ready to
negotiate, then?”
“Just tell me, you
son of a bitch!” Svenson shouted furiously.
“What’s the price for my son’s life?
You didn’t call just to show me how you had already tortured him! Tell me your price, I’ll pay it!”
“You shouldn’t
call me names, Johnny-Boy… I really, REALLY, hate that.”
To Svenson’s
dismay, Grover turned back to Adam and started hitting him again. The look of pain on his son’s face was
almost too much for Svenson to bear. He
desperately fought himself not to look away.
“Grover, stop it!”
he pleaded. “He can’t defend
himself. You’ll kill him!”
“Isn’t that what
those guys you sent after me in jail tried to do to me, Svenson?”
Grover had spun
around to face the camera again, leaving his prisoner, groaning in pain, barely
able to keep his head up. There was an
expression of anger in the man’s eyes.
“What are you
talking about?”
“Don’t play games
with me! I know they came from
you! You paid them to come after
me! I came out crippled from it,
Svenson! But I survived!”
John Svenson
didn’t reply. Yes, he knew perfectly
well what Grover was talking about… And it was true, he had paid some tough
guys in the federal prison, to get to the maniac who had almost killed his
young son, way back when. Svenson had
not been satisfied with his jailing, not after what he had done to Adam. Not after leaving him for dead, and in a
coma the boy had fought so very hard to wake up from. Svenson had not thought Grover had been dealt with
appropriately. In his mind, the
punishment wasn’t severe enough. Grover
had to pay.
“So, you don’t
deny it anymore, huh?” Grover said with an evil grin. “You bastard, you tried to have me killed…”
“Tell me what you
want,” Svenson interrupted in a bleak voice.
“You’ll have it. I’ll do
whatever you want.”
“I’m sure you
will.” Grover paused a second,
thoughtful. Then, he cleared his
throat. “I want you to book a plane
ticket for today. Not your private
plane. Take a regular, commercial
flight. Go to Las Vegas, and rent a
room there, at any hotel you want. Keep
a low profile. The ONLY thing I want
you to take with you is a portable computer, which will enable you to transfer
the funds I want.”
“How much?”
“You’ll know that
in due course. Don’t be too eager to
find out yet.”
“What should I do,
in Las Vegas?”
“You still have a
cellular phone, haven’t you? Don’t
worry, I know the number. I’ll call you
back, tomorrow, with further instructions.
You BETTER be in Vegas by then.
Remember: don’t say a word about this to anybody. Not your secretary, your associates, your wife,
or any other member of your family.
Just say you have urgent business to attend to, if anyone asks you. No further information. Just go.
Nobody has to know where you’re going.
And don’t call the police… You try to trick me, your son dies. Very painfully. And if I get the chance, I’ll make you watch it. It’s all the same to me, Svenson: I’ll take
much pleasure in doing that as in getting your money!”
Svenson’s throat
tightened, hearing those terrible words.
There was so much anger, so much hate in them… He had no doubt that
Grover would do as he said.
“I believe you,”
Svenson croaked. He took one look at
Adam, who was trying to get on his feet.
He was desperately hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he would see his
son alive. “Adam, if you can hear me, I
swear, I’ll get you out of this, son…”
He didn’t get the
chance to see if Adam had actually heard him.
The communication was suddenly shut down and he found himself staring at
a blank screen.
For long seconds,
John Svenson could do nothing more than stand there, his mind as blank as the
screen itself. He then sat down very
slowly, mechanically, his legs weakening, leaning against his desk. He buried his face in his hands and gave a
long, desperate sigh.
God! The nightmare he had lived twenty-five years
ago was beginning again! With a Wilson
Grover even more bloodthirsty and violent than he had been when he had a nine
year old kid in his clutches. And Adam,
with all his strength, all his vaunted skills honed from years of training in
his present job as well as his preceding one as a security agent at the WAS
seemed as helpless as he did when he was only a child. In those days, Grover had not hesitated to
brutalize him; now that he was a man, John Svenson didn’t have any doubt that
he would hesitate even less to hurt him.
For all the
differences and arguments that had grown between them, John Svenson always had
admired, even envied his son his force, both physical and of character, and his
courage. Of his four children, Adam was
the only one who had ever dared stand up openly to him – and was still doing it
today. Of course, David was the
unconventional one – living some kind of bohemian life, but always he had come
back to the family fold when he had felt the need for it. Katherine had a strong will, one that
resembled Adam’s, but still not quite the same; she was ready to argue with her
father, but more often than not, she would side with him, and accept his
decisions. As for Peter, he was more
like his father. John saw himself in
Peter. That was probably the reason why
Adam and Peter couldn’t get along for more than five minutes in the same room
together.
Peter and
Katherine were working with their father at the family business; David was
still too young, still a student, and was only concerned with the pursuit of
personal pleasures. He would come
around eventually, Svenson was convinced of that. But Adam… Adam was a whole different thing. He had already made choices in his life that
his father couldn’t understand. What
was that idea of becoming a test pilot, after years of studying economics,
anyway? Why take the risk of getting
killed just to make sure some dumb aircraft would fly properly? That wasn’t the kind of proper job a Svenson
would do.
And then came that
job with Spectrum, even more dangerous, that Adam accepted, three years earlier
– giving up his identity in the process, to adopt a colour-coded name. Adam had tried to explain to his father it
was to protect the rest of the family.
John Svenson wouldn’t listen.
The only thing he was very aware of was that the son he had been so
proud of in his younger days – proud of his character, of his achievements as a
human being, a student and an eventual heir to his company – had grown up to
become a total disappointment. A
stranger. An embarrassment, even. Especially when people asked about him. How could Svenson tell them about him,
without revealing that so damned important secrecy that surrounded
Spectrum? So he had to lie, and pretend
not to know anything about what his son was ‘up to, these days’.
But now, Adam was
in trouble. DEEP trouble. And apparently, that Spectrum organisation he
was so proud to be a part of could not even get him out of it.
In that case, what can I do? Svenson mused in despair, looking back at the empty
screen. He felt that he had no choice
other than to follow Grover’s orders.
There was no doubt in his mind that this maniac would continue to
mistreat his son until he obtained what he wanted. And Svenson only prayed that Adam’s great strength would be
enough to permit him to survive this ordeal, until HE could get him out of it.
Svenson quickly
picked up the phone and called the airport to find out the time of the next
flight to Las Vegas. Upon hearing that
there would be one in less than an hour, he booked a seat in his name, and
quickly hung up. He got to his still
unsteady feet, and feverishly gathered his papers to throw them in the first
drawer he opened. He shut down the
portable computer and snapped the lid closed.
No time to call home. Anyway,
Grover had specifically told him to give no explanations, to anybody. If he were to call Sarah to tell him he was
going away for a couple of days, it was a sure bet she would wonder where he
was going and would ask questions. He
would have a lot of trouble lying to her about what was going on. And he certainly wouldn’t tell her.
Damn you, Grover. I’ll play your sick game. For now.
You don’t leave me much choice, do you?
He was about to
go, when the door of his office opened and a young blond man entered, to
quickly walk toward him, while consulting the contents of an open folder he had
in his hands.
“Dad, I’m sorry to
barge in like this, but I need some information concerning Webster in…” He noticed at that moment that his father
was clearing his desk, and gave him an inquiring look. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m leaving town,
Peter,” Svenson answered rather abruptly.
“Something came up. I must go.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t so rare that John Svenson would go
off like that, after receiving an important call from an investor, or an
associate from out of town. He seemed
to always be on the run to some business or other. So Peter wasn’t so surprised to see him go. He knew he was planning to work late today,
but… it was just that his father appeared somehow nervous this time around.
“When do you
expect to be back?”
“I don’t know
yet.”
Svenson took his
attaché-case and closed the lid. Peter
watched him busying himself, puzzled.
“Can’t you be more specific?
Will you be gone for the rest of the day, or…”
“I told you, I
don’t know. A couple of days,
maybe. I’m going to the West
Coast.” Svenson bit his lip, but it was
too late. The information was already
out. He didn’t have to raise his eyes
towards his son to know he was staring at him curiously.
“The West
Coast? What for?”
Svenson hesitated
for just a moment. “I can’t talk about
it right now,” he said. “I’ll inform
you the minute I’m sure if… all’s going well.”
He was aware that
his answer was stirring even more questions within Peter’s mind, but at the
moment, he really didn’t care. He was
just hoping he wouldn’t press.
“Tell your mother
about this, will you?” he quickly said, leaving his desk.
“You didn’t call
to let her know you’re leaving town?”
Peter’s voice sounded more and more puzzled.
“I don’t have
time. I must catch my plane…” Svenson glanced
at his watch “…which will be leaving in about forty-five minutes.”
“What do you
mean? You’re not taking the company
jet?”
“It’s otherwise
occupied…”
“Come on, Dad,
you’re the company president! If
anybody’s entitled to take the jet, it’s you.
I don’t understand why you…”
“I don’t have time
to answer all your questions, Adam,” Svenson suddenly interrupted, walking with
a quick pace toward the door. “I really
must be going now. This is a date I
can’t afford to miss. I promise, I’ll
tell you all about it, when I return.”
He failed to
notice the puzzled look on his son’s face as he passed by him; Peter followed
him with his eyes and suddenly called to him as he was putting his hand on the
door handle.
“It’s about Adam,
isn’t it?”
Svenson frowned and
stopped; he looked toward Peter, surprise on his face. “And what makes you think it has something
to do with your brother?”
“You called me
‘Adam’, just then,” Peter noted. He
furrowed his brow, apparently irritated, as if he had thought he had figured out
something. “What has he done this
time? Hasn’t he caused you enough worry
as it is?”
John Svenson
sighed tiredly; Peter was always quick to put all the blame on his older
brother, in any circumstances, whatever the reason. It had been like that for years, and even more since Adam had
decided not to work in the family company, and follow the family
tradition. Sometimes, John wondered if
Peter’s motivation in acting that way was really related to his true feelings
on the matter, or if it wasn’t simply to please his father, by trying somehow
fill the void left by Adam. No matter
how hard he tried, Peter had to be aware he would never be able to fill Adam’s
shoes, to somehow replace him. Not in
his father’s heart, and certainly not as a human being. He was simply out of Adam’s league. Hence the reason why he was always picking
on his brother. Sometimes, Peter’s
attitude bothered John greatly, even though he understood why he did it.
“Your brother has
done nothing,” he replied coldly. “When
are you going to stop picking on him like this, anyway?”
“When he
understands where his real place is, maybe?” Peter shook his head.
“I really don’t
need for you to start that argument right now,” Svenson sighed.
“Come on, Dad… I’m
only stating what you yourself say all the time! And what argument could there be, Adam’s not here to argue with!”
“Well, this time,
you’ve got it wrong. I told you, Adam
has nothing to do with this.”
“Are you so sure
about that?” Peter asked, with obvious doubt in his voice. “It seems that you’re thinking about him
right now.”
“Because I called
you by his name?” Svenson sighed. “It
was just a slip, Peter. Nothing more.”
Peter shook his
head, musing. “Okay, Dad… If you say
so.”
“I REALLY have to
go now, son. I’m counting on you and Kate
to take over for me while I’m gone.”
“You know you can,
Dad. And I’ll tell Mom, don’t
worry.” Peter nodded slowly, watching
as his father opened the door. “You
sure you won’t need any help there? I
can go with you, if you like…”
John Svenson nearly
shivered. He already had one son in
trouble; he certainly didn’t want another joining him.
“That won’t be
necessary. Thank you anyway.” He cleared his throat and turned away. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
Peter watched as
his father walked out and closed the door behind him. Musing, he moved toward the desk and went behind it, to open the
top drawer. He looked into it with a
puzzled expression upon his face, as he could see the documents his father had
been working on, just thrown inside, in a disorderly heap. That was perplexing; it certainly wasn’t the
way his father usually behaved. Even
considering that he was probably in a hurry, he would usually put his working
papers carefully in order. And in a
safe place.
Peter closed the
drawer, wondering what could be going on that he wasn’t aware of. It had to be something very important and
out of the ordinary for John Svenson to act so out of character.
And even though
his father had denied it, Peter couldn’t shake this feeling that it had definitely
something to do with Adam.
* * *
The minute he was
certain the communication had been cut off, Grover had addressed a very
satisfied grin toward the man handling the camera.
“All right. Now, we’re in business.”
“You’re sure Svenson
won’t alert the police?” the other man asked, lowering the camera, a note of
doubt in his voice.
“He won’t. He knows I’m serious. I’m pretty sure he won’t risk his son’s life
this time. Now we just have to wait
until tomorrow, and then I’ll give our friend another call.” Grover shook his head quietly. “Go tell the others, Wesley. I’ll let them know soon what we’re going to
do next. For the moment, I need a talk
with our guest, here.”
“I’m not sure if I
can leave you alone with him,” the other guy mumbled. “I can’t believe you just said my name in front of him!”
“He already knows
ME. Do you think it could make any
difference, now? Go, I tell you. And stop worrying.”
The man grumbled
again; he took off, taking his equipment with him and closed the door behind
him. As soon as he was alone with his
captive, Grover turned again to face him.
Blue was struggling to get back on his feet.
“You were very
good, kid,” he said with a mocking tone.
“I’m sure your father was very impressed with your performance.” He laughed faintly, pausing to allow Blue to
regain his footing, and took advantage of the moment to light a cigarette. He blew out some smoke, with obvious satisfaction. “How nice of your old man to come running to
your aid like that, don’t you think?”
“What… do you want
from him, anyway?” Blue asked, trying very hard to overcome the stress imposed
on his arms and wrists, not to mention the pain in the rest of his body. “It’s about more than money, isn’t it? There’s vengeance as well.”
“What makes you
say that?” Grover asked innocently.
“What exactly
happened to you in prison?”
Blue’s footing was
rather precarious; he slipped and felt the rope tightening around his burning
wrists; he repressed a groan. Grover
was looking blankly at him.
“You mean to say
you don’t know?”
Blue shook his
head. “No… No, I don’t. What happened?”
Grover scoffed
loudly. “It was about two weeks after I
landed in federal prison after my trial for your kidnapping. A couple of tough guys were waiting for me
there. Think I gave you a bad beating
just then, kid? That’s nothing compared
to what they gave me. I spent the next
few weeks in the prison infirmary, breathing through a tube in my throat! You’ve seen how I walk today? Well, I have your dad to thank for that! I found out he was the one who paid those
guys to beat me up, probably even kill me.
Because I had the audacity to touch his precious brat!”
Blue was obviously
astounded to hear that revelation. For
a moment, he didn’t have any reaction.
Then, to Grover’s surprise, he found the strength to laugh out loud,
although very weakly. “Dear old Dad…
Leave it to him to take justice into his own hands if it doesn’t go the way he
expects it. I must admit, though, I
would never have thought he’d go that far.”
“I just told you
your father is responsible for me being a cripple, and that’s all you’ve got to
say about it?” Grover asked dryly, his eyes flashing in anger.
“And what would
you have me say?” Blue suddenly snapped with renewed fury. “I was nine years old when you kidnapped me,
Grover! Remember how you beat me to
within an inch of my life? Remember
that fall I took because of you? You
think you got it bad? I spent days in a
coma, with a major concussion, weeks to overcome the pain of broken bones and
months to learn to let go of all that pain and fear. Do you know how long I was scared to go to sleep, because of the
nightmares?”
Blue could feel
the anger and hate still mounting by degrees within him. He was rather out of breath, after this
prolonged speech, but he hadn’t finished yet.
“I was NINE YEARS OLD, Grover!” he repeated dryly. “I certainly wasn’t much of a threat to
you. You didn’t have to beat me up like
you did, or try to kill me. What could
have motivated you?”
“You were an
insufferable, spoiled, little brat,” Grover replied. “A rich kid who never had to work or suffer to get what he
wanted. You had it all. You were never hungry, or cold, or needy,
and always had top medical attention when you got sick.”
“If I’m not
mistaken, you could have it good too, Grover.
You were in the Minor Leagues…”
“I never made the
cut to go higher, and have the success I deserved.”
“Did you work HARD
enough for it?” Blue replied accusingly.
“Don’t push it,
Svenson.”
“So, was that all
there was to it? Jealousy, pure and
simple? I didn’t have to suffer, so you
decided to make me suffer?”
“You needed a
lesson, kid. You don’t seem to remember
all the trouble you gave me, back then, by resisting me, and trying to escape.”
Blue scoffed in
complete disgust. “Right! Like, you kidnapped me and I had to play
dead!” He shook his head. “And now, you kidnap me again, beat me up
again, and complain that it’s all my father’s and my fault, if you have a
crippled leg today? Do you EXPECT me to
feel sorry for you? You’ve got some
nerve! You have NOBODY BUT YOURSELF to
blame, Grover. You’ve made your own
bed, now lie in it!”
“Shut up, you
bastard…” Grover growled, taking a threatening step toward his captive.
“Or what, you’ll
beat me again?” Blue replied, still in the same tone. “I told you once, I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m not afraid of you! Do your worst, if you want. You won’t see me grovel.”
“I’ll kill you,
kid,” Grover spat between his teeth.
“I’ll kill you, you and your father.”
“Yes, I thought as
much,” Blue replied, his voice amazingly calm.
“Your revenge won’t be complete unless we’re dead, is that it,
Grover? Did you happen to tell this
detail to your accomplices? Do they
know you intend to make murderers of them?”
Grover cackled
wickedly. “They don’t really care what
happens to you. So long as they receive
their cut. And they know there is
plenty of money involved. Millions, to
be exact.”
“Bet you care
NOTHING about the money, do you, Grover?”
“Oh, I care about
it. A lot. But you’re right about one thing: I care much more about
revenge. Much more.”
“You’re a petty
man, Grover. You were, twenty-five
years ago. You still are, today.”
“So I am,
according to you.” Grover looked
thoughtfully at his captive. He
narrowed his eyes. “You’re really not
afraid of what’ll happen to you, are you, kid?” Blue didn’t answer, and contented himself with standing as tall
as he could, considering his situation.
Grover shook his head, and gave a low sigh. “Ah, by the way… Before I
talked to your father, one of my buddies brought me some interesting news from
Los Lobos. It appears your girlfriend
went back there.”
That had the
impact he expected on Blue; the Spectrum officer shivered, and lifted his
head. He now seemed very concerned.
“Karen?” he murmured
in a worried voice.
“She wasn’t on her
own, though,” Grover continued, ever so quietly. “She brought a friend with her.
A tall, dark-haired fellow, who speaks with an English accent. It seems they ran around town, asking
questions about where you were. Since
you’re not in Los Lobos anymore, I’m guessing they won’t have a chance in hell
of finding you there.”
Blue let out a
sigh. At least, he thought, Karen was
not alone. She had Paul with her. He knew she was perfectly able to take care
of herself, but that extra help would be needed against the likes of Grover and
his friends.
Knowing them as he
did, Blue didn’t doubt for a second that, if they were looking for him, they
would stop at nothing until they found a clue to where he was. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t in Los Lobos
anymore. They would find him. The question now was: in what condition
would he be by then? Would he even
still be alive?
Grover cast a
suspicious look at his captive, obviously wondering was what going on in his
mind. He thought he could guess, and he
came close to him.
“You think they
can actually find you, anyway?” Seeing
that Blue was keeping quiet, Grover nodded.
“Yes, you’re sure they could, now, are you? Well, I wouldn’t bet on that, kid. And anyway… They have their own problems to solve, before
worrying about you.”
Blue pricked up
his ears. Grover smiled with
satisfaction. “ Yes, that guy with your
girlfriend… He already ran into trouble with the sheriff. He’s in the joint, for public
disorder.” He chuckled evilly, when he
saw the apparent discomfort in his captive.
“Which means now that your precious Karen is on her own, alone on the
streets of Los Lobos…”
Blue understood
the implications of this new development.
He could hear the threat in Grover’s voice. It was too much to take.
Furiously, he launched himself in the direction of that hated voice;
Grover stepped back, just out of reach and gazed contentedly at his struggling
captive.
“You keep away
from her!” Blue yelled with complete fury.
“If you ever touch even one hair on her head, I swear, there will not be
one safe haven for you on Earth! You
hear me? I swear, I’ll kill you!”
“Oh! Now that’s really threatening! You would actually have the guts to do it?”
“You’d better
believe it!” Blue tried again to reach
for Grover, naturally without any success.
“I would not hesitate one second to snuff out your miserable life!”
There was
something in Blue’s tone that made Grover wonder about that. The fury and determination were certainly
there.
“Yes, I believe
you would. But that won’t happen,
kid. Because it’s ME who’ll have the
last word. I hold all the cards, and I
can do whatever I want. And nobody can
do anything about that. Not your girl,
not your English friend, not your father… and certainly not you.”
“Grover, you
dirty…”
“I think it’s
better if I leave you now to meditate on all this,” Grover cut in with a wicked
chuckle. “You have plenty to think
about, now, kid.” He moved toward the door, leaving his captive to struggle
anew, trying desperately to free himself to get to him. The older man knew that there was no chance
that he would succeed. “I think seeing
your girl would do you a lot of good.”
Grover looked over
his shoulder to witness what effect that declaration had on his prisoner; he
saw him shivering again.
“Leave her alone,
Grover!” Blue shouted, his anger and worry mounting.
“I’ll give her
your best, kid. I’ll make sure of
that.”
With that quiet
promise, Grover went out; Blue heard the door being opened, then closed; he heard
a lock being turned. He frantically
pulled on his bonds again, but only succeeded in hurting himself. He let out a furious shout:
“Grover! Come back in here, you scum!”
He heard Grover’s
limping steps fading away, followed by the echo of his cackling laugh. A distressed Blue then knew that he was
alone with his despair. For the moment,
his situation was certainly desperate, and it seemed that it was going from bad
to worse. Hungry for revenge, Grover
was using him as bait for his father, who was about to fall into a deadly
trap. And Karen… Karen was now set up
as a target. There was no telling what
that sick man would do to her, just to torment her lover. Just the thought of knowing she would be in
danger was driving Blue mad with worry, and pushed him to pursue his efforts to
get free.
But without
avail. The only thing he obtained was
getting his wrists deeply damaged. He
bit his lip over the pain and let out a frustrated cry. Then he stopped, trying to regain his
breath, and to calm down his rapidly beating heart.
He felt so
useless.
“Karen,” he
murmured, almost hoping she would hear him.
“Please, be careful… Don’t let that maniac get his hands on you!”