The Spirit Survives (36 page)

I listened to Gerry intently, wondering what this had to do with us finding Leah. “How is Leah involved in this?”

“When you inadvertently witnessed the murder of Sergey’s daughter and the killer kidnapped Leah to get to you, she became a pawn in a much larger plot. As soon as Lopez disappeared, she was no longer useful. We believe that Sergey just wanted to pick up some extra money and sell her to the sex slave business rather than killing her and getting nothing. I suspect that a Mexican they call Cheche handles the sex-trade business for Sergey here in Houston. My office has been watching him for months, undercover, but hasn’t been able to pin anything on him. We want to get to Sergey, and he is the key to that plan. If Leah is in Houston, and I think she is, he probably has her.”

I was stunned that Gerry had been able to piece this puzzle together as quickly as he had. I knew he was good, but damn!

He continued, “We placed the condo under surveillance yesterday, but there hasn’t been any activity until this morning. A lady named Bea Morgan, who lives in the complex, called 911 a couple of days ago. She is evidently an elderly women and the operator thought she was senile. However, the operator did report the call to her supervisor. The supervisor informed the Houston Police Department and stated that it was a low priority item. When the Houston police saw the address and determined it was in the same complex as Cheche, they phoned my office. I called the 911 office and had them play the tape for me. Ms. Morgan was insistent that Cheche practically dragged a woman into the condo, and that she has never come out. The lady thinks the Russian killed her. It may be a dead end, but it deserves to be checked out. I think you and I should go to the condo and see what we find.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Let’s do it now.”

My heart was pounding as we worked our way through traffic to Highway 45 South, which would give us an open shot to Clear Lake. I couldn’t believe that I might be thirty minutes from finally seeing Leah.

I wondered what all had happened to her, since she rushed to Lookout Mountain to try to find me. Anger flashed and I swore to myself again that, if she had been hurt, someone would pay. For now as we sped toward Clear Lake, I just hoped to see her alive and hold her in my arms.

Chapter 77

Bea Morgan waited two days for the police to come in response to her 911 call. She knew that Russian was up to no good and she didn’t understand why the silly 911 operator didn’t believe her. She had spent most of her time for the past couple of days watching the Russian’s condo. The girl hadn’t come out and, of course, Bea believed the Russian had killed her. She finally decided that she must take matters in her own hands. She had seen the man leave earlier, so she knew he wasn’t at home. She figured to go to the condo and see what she could find out.
 

Bea took her purse with her. She had purchased a .22 caliber pistol right after the Russian moved in and kept it with her all the time in her purse. She was determined that if he bothered her, she would pop a cap in his filthy ass. She wanted to show the Russians that Bea Morgan would not be screwed by them twice.
 

Bea left her condo and walked to the door of the Russians place. She looked around and saw no one. She banged on the door. “Are you in there honey?” she yelled, “Did he hurt you?”
 

There was no response. Bea looked around again to be sure that no one was watching. Seeing no one, she took her Sears credit card out of her purse. Her dead husband, Sam, was a locksmith before a heart attack took him to heaven. Sam had taught her a lot about getting inside a locked door. She slipped the credit card expertly beside the lock. She maneuvered it and heard the familiar click as she opened the door. She replaced the credit card in her purse and quietly entered the condo. The layout was exactly like hers, except that his was decorated in all black. She hated black leather. Bea called out again, “Is anyone here?” She walked into the living area and called out again, “Honey, where are you? I know he brought you in here.” Bea heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom, located to the right of the living area. She hurried to the door, opened it and entered the room. Her eyes went straight to the bed and she gasped at what she saw. There was a young woman dressed in only her panties and bra tied to the bed. Each arm was tied separately to the top bed posts. Her feet were tied separately to the bottom bed posts. She was spread eagle on the bed and had a wash cloth stuffed in her mouth. The woman was thrashing wildly. Bea rushed to the bed and took the cloth out of her mouth. “What’s your name, honey?” Bea asked in a sympathetic voice, “What did that monster do to you?”

The girl could only manage a slurred whisper, “Leah Hamilton.” It was obvious she
was having problems forming her words. Bea knew immediately that she was drugged.
 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here,” Bea said in a reassuring voice as she started untying Leah’s feet.

Bea didn’t hear Cheche’s car arrive. As he pulled into his reserved parking place in front of his door, he noticed that the door was slightly ajar and knew someone was in his condo. He quietly opened the door, walked in, closed the door and locked it. He heard voices in the bedroom, where he had secured the girl. Cheche pulled out his gun and walked calmly to the open bedroom door. He saw the busy-body old lady from next door fumbling with the rope on his captive’s feet. He looked at her in disbelief.
 

Leah saw him enter the room and walk up behind Bea. She screamed at the top of her lungs.
 

Bea had finished untying one foot when she saw the look of terror on the girls’ face and heard the scream. She turned around quicker that a seventy-two-year-old woman could possibly do. She saw the enraged face of Cheche glaring at her. In one motion, she grabbed her purse from the floor and pull out the pistol. The quickness of the move momentarily froze Cheche, however the sight of the gun brought him back to reality. He grasped Bea’s arm, twisted it and the pistol fell to the floor. He swung the flat side of his gun and hit the old lady. Bea turned her head and suffered a glancing blow from the handle of the gun on the side of her head. Cheche hit her because he couldn’t risk a gunshot being heard. Blood spurted from the head wound and Bea fell unconscious to the floor. He would have finished her off right then, but the girl was screaming and he needed to shut her up.
 

He grabbed the washcloth, which had been thrown on the floor, laid his gun on the end table and turned to stuff it in Leah’s mouth. As he leaned over the bed, Leah kicked him as hard as she could with her free foot. The wild kick landed squarely on his crotch. He yelped in pain and went to his knees. Leah continued to scream but her voice was feeble. Even with his balls aching, Cheche grimaced, grabbed her loose leg and retied it to the lower bedpost. He stuffed the washcloth in her mouth and the screams turned into muffled grunts. Angry from the kick to the crotch, he backhanded the girl on the mouth. Blood oozed from the side of her mouth from the split lip.
 

“That’s for kicking me, bitch,” he hissed. “I was just going to kill you, but now I’m going to make you suffer!” He reached up and ripped off her bra. Leah shut her eyes knowing she was going to die. Cheche chuckled and grabbed her breasts with both hands and squeezed them. Knowing that the humiliation was overwhelming, he reached down, took the top of her panties in both hands, ripped them and jerked the shreds of silk from her now-naked body. Given that he didn’t have to worry anymore about delivering damaged goods to the buyer, he decided rape her and afterwards choke her to death. Even with the kick to the balls, he felt himself getting an erection. Cheche loved feeling pain and he loved dishing it out. He was practically delirious with the anticipation of assaulting Leah and killing her. He unbuckled his belt and struck Leah on the midsection. He dropped his pants, grinning at the defeated girl. He wanted her to fight, but she lay motionless with her eyes closed.
 

Cheche had his full attention on Leah and didn’t notice Bea’s left hand as she wiped the blood from her eyes. Her pistol was still lying on the floor where it had fallen. She attempted to move her right arm to pick it up, but the Russian must have broken it when he twisted the gun from her grip. Watching him through squinted eyes filling up again with blood, she reached over with her left hand and grasped the gun. With all the strength left in her, she lifted it and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out as Bea passed out again.

Chapter 78

Gerry didn’t worry about the speed limit on the trip to Clear Lake, and we arrived in about twenty minutes. Nothing appeared out of order as we pulled into the parking lot of the condominiums. He parked the car in a slot marked “visitors” and we exited his vehicle.

“Okay Ben,” he said, “that’s the Russian’s condo over there,” signaling to the right. “There’s a car parked in the reserved slot for the condo, he must be home. We don’t have a warrant, so I’ll knock on the door and when he answers, just follow my lead. If we see anything suspicious, warrant or no warrant, we’re going in.”

“I agree, but if there is any chance that Leah’s in there, I’m going in regardless.”

Gerry nodded and we approached the door. Before we could knock, I heard a car coming into the parking lot fast and screeching to a halt. Three rather large men got out of the vehicle. We were standing directly in front of the condo. As the men were advancing the big guy in front yelled with a strong Russian accent, “What do you want there?”
 

Both Gerry and I were casually dressed. I was in jeans and a golf shirt and Gerry wore a sports jacket hiding his service revolver. We would never have been recognized as law enforcement.

“Who wants to know?” Gerry asked.

As the men approached, I noticed that the guy, who was slightly in front of the other two and the one who had spoken, had a gun in his belt.
 

“Gun,” I said in a low voice.

Gerry instantly drew his revolver, “FBI,” he yelled, “Get on the ground right now!”

The big Russian, without hesitation ducked, and went for his gun. He didn’t even get it out of his belt before the red splotch of blood appeared directly between his eyes from the bullet that Gerry fired. He crumpled to the ground as the other two men jumped behind nearby cars in the parking lot. We didn’t know if they had guns or not. Almost simultaneously, I heard a shot from inside the condo.

Gerry yelled to me, “I’ll handle these two. You get in there and find out what’s happening!”

I kicked the door hard twice, the lock shattered and the door flew open. I heard a gunshot and a bullet ripped into the wall alongside my head as I entered the condo. I glanced to my right and saw a man holding a gun. I leapt behind the sofa as he continued shooting. After two shoots into the sofa, I heard a familiar click. He was out of bullets. I jumped up and saw him getting another clip out of his pocket. I picked up the end table beside the couch, hurled it at him, and charged. The end table crashed into his leg. He momentarily stumbled and I tackled him. The gun flew out of his hand as we rolled on the floor. He outweighed me by a good fifty pounds, but I got in the first punch to the gut. I heard him gasp, but he didn’t stop clutching me. His weight would get the best of me if I didn’t get to my feet. I punched him again, managed to free myself from his bear hug and got to my feet.
 

The man was big but he sprang to his feet and assumed a Baqua stance, which is a form of Chinese Kung Fu.
 

I knew instantly that I was in for a fight. My principal training was in Aikido Japanese martial arts, a derivative of Jujutsu and Kenjutsu.
 

We circled each other and he advanced with a side pivot kick. I blocked the leg and sent a straight punch to his knee. That punch would have sent most men to the floor, but he kept coming.
 

I stepped forward and shot my fist toward his neck.
 

He was too quick and moved his head to the side and delivered a left hand to my ribs. My breath left my body as I fell to the floor. He was on me immediately and kicked the ribs again.
 

I rolled away and executed a leg sweep as he was preparing to stomp my head. This blow did take him off his feet. That was all the opening I needed, and I pounced on him as he fell to the floor. I gave him two quick straight punches to the solar plexus, and a jab to his neck. He moaned as his head snapped to the right from the velocity of the punch.
 

I jumped to my feet and just gave him an old-fashioned American kick to the head. He lay motionless with blood seeping into the carpet from his busted ear.
 

I heard a groan from the bedroom and rushed through the open door. The first thing I saw was an elderly lady lying on the floor. She was trying to get up. She had a small pistol in her left hand. Her right arm was limp and twisted.
 

“I’m here to help you,” I said softly to her.
 

She dropped the pistol and lay back down on the floor.
 

I looked toward the bed and my heart skipped a beat. Leah was tied spread eagle to the bedposts. She was naked with a cloth stuffed in her mouth. Her lip was split and there was a nasty blue mark on her midsection. Dried blood was crusted on her mouth. The bastard must have beaten her. I rushed to the bed and took the cloth out of her mouth.