This Doesn't Happen in the Movies (19 page)

I hurried inside, ignoring the receptionist, who called after me as I ran down the hallway to the bar.  I saw Maggie Delacroix sitting in a booth by the entrance.  Her eyes widened in a hint of recognition and maybe surprise, before she casually resumed her lunch.  I walked past her and saw Amanda, who sat at a corner table in semi-darkness, her chin resting on her hands.  She was oblivious to anything going on around her.  She didn’t even notice me standing by her table.

“You need to come with me,” I said in a low voice.

She jumped.  “Oh, you startled me.”  She picked up her glass and tossed back the rest of the drink.  “Do you want something?”

I bent down and whispered in her ear.  “I think you’re being set up.  I don’t think tomorrow’s meeting is ever supposed to happen.  Whatever’s going to happen, it's going to happen before then.”

“Oh, Reed, don’t be absurd.”  Amanda shifted in her chair and trained unfocused eyes on me.  “Did you get this idea from one of your movies?  Or a how-to manual?”

“I’m trying to help you,” I said through gritted teeth.  “If you want, I’ll walk away and leave you to figure this out.”

“You have to admit that you’re a rank amateur,” Amanda said with a restrained laugh.

“You’re already drunk,” I said.

She wagged her head slowly.  “No, I’m just feeling really good.”  She worked hard to enunciate her words.  “I am not drunk.  But you,” she cocked a finger at me, “need to relax.  Get a drink, that’ll help.  Then we can talk about these silly X Women.  Come on, sit down now.  I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”  She patted the seat of the chair next to her.

“Amanda,” I hissed.  “Let’s get out of here.  We can talk about this somewhere else.  Somewhere safe.”

“I’m perfectly safe here.”  Amanda stood up.  “But I do need to go to the ladies room.”  She swayed momentarily as she stepped around me and began to walk purposefully out of the bar.  “This is a private club.  Nothing’s going to happen here,” she called a little too loudly over her shoulder.

I shrugged at the curious bartender and followed Amanda.  She stalked around the corner, down the hall and past the receptionist, who began her protestations about me again.  Amanda shooed her back to her desk and disappeared through the bathroom door.  I paced the hallway near the door, waiting for her.  A minute later a woman in a red dress walked down the hall toward the ladies room.  I started to say something to her, I don’t even know what, but she froze me with a steely gaze.

“Do you have a problem if I use the restroom?”  Her voice was husky, and her eyes flashed at me.

“No,” I murmured, turning away from the door.  I felt my ears  and face burning.  After a second I glanced over my shoulder.  The door was shutting.  I paced again, my impatience growing.  A few minutes later the door opened and the woman  emerged.  She gave me another icy glare and walked away.  I waited until she was gone and then I cracked the door open.

“Amanda?”

“Can’t a woman go to the bathroom in peace?” Amanda said as she came around a tiled wall.  “I’m finished, thank you.”

“I was worried,” I explained, holding the door open for her.

She bumped past me and turned toward the bar.  “Oh no.”  I steered her in the opposite direction.  “I’ve got to get you out of here.  You can drink somewhere else.”

“Reed,” she said, pulling away from me.  “This is absurd.”

“You wouldn’t think so if you were sober.  Come on.”

She looked at me with a hurt expression.  “You can be so mean.”  I concurred as I steered her away from the main entrance, continuing down the hall.  “Let’s find another way out of here,” I said soothingly.  She seemed to be walking better now, not quite so drunk.

“There’s an exit this way.  Out back.”  Amanda jerked her arm away from me, and stalked ahead of me.  “You had better have some good vodka where we’re going.”

I thought about taking her to a detox center, but I didn’t want to subject her to anyone else.  “You’re not making this easy,” I said.

“Whatever.”  By now we had turned a corner and come to an exit.  She pushed the door with her shoulder.  The door suddenly opened wide and Amanda stumbled forward.  The woman in the red dress stood in the opening, one hand on the door.  Another tall woman in blue jeans and checked blazer stood behind her.  Red Dress grabbed Amanda and pulled her toward Blazer Girl, who placed a white rag over Amanda’s nose and mouth.  Amanda flayed her arms for a second before going limp.  Another woman emerged from a blue van parked at the curb, and helped hustle Amanda into the back of the van.  That was all I noticed, because a fourth, surly-looking woman put her round mug into my face and wrapped me in a bear hug, pinning my arms to my sides.  Then Red Dress, who was much stronger than she looked, covered my face with a rag.  It smelled like chloroform.  I gurgled out a cry for help, but it came out a muffled “ugh”.  I was vaguely aware of Red Dress saying something to me before my vision blurred and I was shoved into the van.  Then I saw darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A piercing pain in my elbow brought me back to reality.  I felt cold on my right cheek.  I jerked up, banging my head on a seat.  I struggled into a sitting position, swaying with the motion of the van.  Amanda was slumped over on the seat near me.  She must’ve gotten a heavier dose of chloroform.  That, or she’d finally passed out from all the alcohol in her system.  Blazer Girl sat next to her with a look of total indifference on her face.  I reached up toward Amanda.

“Don’t move,” said a voice from the front seat.  I turned that way, and ended up staring right into the end of a  revolver.  “If you do, I’ll be forced to use this.”

I sat back into the cramped corner between the seat and the van wall.  Red Dress watched me over the gun.  I stared back.  The van hit a nasty bump and we were jostled around, but the gun did not waver.  “Where are you taking us?” I finally asked.

No one answered.  From my sitting position I could see very little, only the occasional telephone pole or the top of a building.  I noticed the sky turning cloudy, with hints of blue peeking out.  It was impossible to tell how long I’d been out, but judging by the light outside, not much time had passed.

The van made a right turn.  I sat up as much as I dared without Red Dress noticing and saw through her window what looked like an industrial park, with long rows of off-white stucco buildings.  We turned down an alley between two buildings, and a large garage door opened.  The van pulled in, plunging us into darkness.  As soon as the engine died, a flurry of activity ensued.

Red Dress and the driver got out.  The side door slid open and Blazer Girl hauled Amanda’s limp body out, dragging her roughly through a white door ten feet from the van.  Blazer Girl reappeared a moment later.  Red Dress gestured with the gun for me to get out.  I crawled out of the van and stood up.  The gun stayed trained on me.  The driver, a stocky woman in gray sweats, came up behind me and twisted my right arm up behind my back.  I gasped in a very un-detective-like fashion and writhed to keep the pressure off my shoulder socket.  It felt like my shoulder was about to pop right out of the socket.

Red Dress nodded and the brute behind me propelled me where Amanda had been taken.  I glanced around quickly as we walked.  I wasn’t able to see much, just that we were in a warehouse of sorts, with lots of boxes stacked on metal shelves.  Then I was shoved through the same door as Amanda was a moment before.  She lay sprawled on the cement floor and I stumbled over her, putting my hands out to break my fall.  I rolled over just as the door slammed.

I rubbed my skinned palms while I surveyed our situation.  We were trapped in an empty room with stark white walls.  Not a single piece of furniture, no pictures on the walls, no trash can or trash, no dust.  Nothing.  Except us.

Amanda stirred.

“Oh, my head,” she propped herself up on one elbow and rubbed her forehead with the other.  I’d bet the combination of alcohol and chloroform was wreaking havoc on her brain.  She lifted her head and saw me.  She blinked and her gaze wandered around the barren room, then came back to me.  “Where are we?”

I shrugged my shoulders.  “Beats me.”

“Did they knock you out?”

“Long enough to get me in the van.  I came to during the ride, but I couldn’t see anything.  We’re in some kind of industrial complex, that’s all I could see.”

She rolled over on her side and worked her way into a sitting position, leaning her back against the wall.  “Well.”  She examined herself for a moment.  “I guess I’m okay.  How do we get out of here?”

“I don’t know.  And I’m fine, too.  Thanks for asking,” I said.

She glared at me.  “You’re the detective.  Don’t you know how to get us out of here?  Isn’t that what I hired you to do?”

“No, you hired me to find your husband, who I might add, you tried to kill.  That’s what got us in this mess.”  If looks could kill, well, you know the rest.

“I suppose you’re going to add that if I wasn’t drunk, we wouldn’t be here.”  She crossed her arms defiantly.

I shook my head.  “No, they were too good.  They knew the layout of the country club, where the exits were, where they should be, where you would be.  They had this planned very well, and they executed it well.  I doubt anyone saw them take us.”

“So no one knows where we are.”

“Only if the FBI followed us.”

Amanda sighed.  “Then we’re dead.  You’ve said it yourself.  This group has been successfully dodging the FBI for years.”  She began to tremble uncontrollably.

I sank to the floor and as if I’d been punched in the stomach.  We were done for.  I leaned my head back and momentarily closed my eyes.  A real job sounded okay right about now, one my parents would approve of.  Without warning the single overhead light winked out, plunging the room into total darkness.

“Oh, no.  Reed, I don’t want to die.”  Amanda’s voice shook.  “I don’t want to die.  I’ll do anything, I’ll go to jail, but I don’t want to die.”  She began moaning softly.

I couldn’t see a thing.  The darkness became more sinister, enveloping us in its bleakness.  I didn’t know what to do.  I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, so I didn’t know how to even begin trying to find a way out.  I heard a click and looked at the door, which swung out, away from us.  A silhouette stood in the doorway, shadowed from the light behind her.  She beckoned to us.  I got up and helped Amanda to her feet.  She was shuddering from fear, barely able to keep herself upright.

We shuffled through the door.  I squinted against the sudden light.  The woman in the red dress stood observing us.  She aimed her gun right at my head.  Behind her, the van driver, her feet spread apart in a threatening stance, had a gun trained on Amanda.  And behind the driver stood two more women.

“Hold out your arms.”  Amanda and I did as we were told.  I wasn’t going to argue with a loaded gun, and Amanda didn’t seem conscious of what was going on.  “Cuff them.”  One of the women stepped forward and locked cuffs on our wrists.

“Search them.”  Feminine hands slid up and down our bodies, emptying our pockets of everything.  My cell phone rang just as one of the women took it from my belt.  She glanced at it, then hurled it forcefully into a metal trashcan.  I heard the hollow rattle as it broke apart.

“Bring them over here,” the woman in the red dress ordered.  Her voice could’ve been mistaken for a man’s, but the rest of her couldn’t.  She was tall, slender, and incredibly tan.  The fashionable dress conformed precisely to her contours.  I didn’t think the Glock suited the outfit, but then, I wasn’t in a position to argue.  She stood aside as her companions hustled Amanda and me through a maze of stacked boxes and shelves to an open area between rows of shelves.  Amanda shook so violently I could hear her teeth clanging together.

They shoved us forward unceremoniously.  Two chairs waited for us.

“Sit,” the woman in the red dress commanded.  We sat.  “Don’t try anything or I’ll use this.”  She trained the gun on me.  The other women formed a half circle around us.  Red Dress surveyed their handiwork, nodding with approval.

“Do something,” Amanda hissed.

“Like what?” I said out of the side of my mouth.

She looked imploringly at me.  I shrugged.

Red Dress barked something unintelligible at us.  “No talking,” she snapped.  My breathing became a bit more labored.  Amanda let out a squeak.

“You’ve really screwed things up, you know that?” Red Dress said.  I wasn’t sure who she was addressing, Amanda or me.  “You know that?” she repeated, raising her voice.  The corner of the woman’s eye began twitching and her face hardened.

Amanda blanched.  My mind was racing to figure a way out.

“And you should have stayed away, Mr. Ferguson,” she addressed me.

“So you know my name.  But who are you?”  Her eyes narrowed.  “You can tell me.  After all, you have the gun.  I’m cuffed.  I’d say you have the upper hand.”  I was stalling for time.

“You can call me Georgia,” she finally said.  She focused on Amanda.  “You have caused us a great deal of trouble, Mrs. Ghering.  And unfortunately for you, Mr. Ferguson, she has pulled you into the situation.  Regrettable, but we’re going to remedy the problem now.”

“But I don’t understand,” Amanda whimpered.  “So I lied to you.  Big deal.  It happens all the time.  So maybe Peter wasn’t as bad as I said he was.  He cheated on me.  Isn’t that bad enough?  Why should I have cared what happened to him?  I paid you good money, so why should you care either?”

“We’re not murderers for hire,” Georgia said.  I snorted at that.  “No, you misunderstand our true purpose.  We seek to rectify situations where justice was not done, and we’re very careful to make sure that a request is worthy of our particular brand of justice.”

“You’re hired guns,” I said derisively.  “You profit from murder.”

“No.  The money we make supports the organization, and anything left over is donated to causes that help unfortunate women.”

“Oh, right.  I forgot about that.  Of course it’s okay, then,” I said.