Authors: D. T. Jones
“The stupid idiot…this thing doesn’t have enough petrol to get us…shut up!” he shouted and she was instantly aware he was telling her way too much.
“Then stop and get some,” she said in as rude of a tone as she could muster. “I want something to eat anyway.”
“
Lieber Gott
how much do you eat?” he snapped.
“I just
deposited everything I had in my stomach in the toilet on that bloody train, remember? If you want the money you think you deserve from my husband, you’ll do what is necessary to keep us healthy and happy.”
Bachmeier turned slightly in his seat, raising his hand as if he intended to striker her, but between the defiant look on Sandra’s face and the car honking from behind, she watched the hesitation flash in his eyes as he lowered his hand and turned to face the windshield.
“Fine, but you are paying.”
“Naturally,” she said snidely, wanting him to be aware that his threat did not bother her.
They pulled into a filling station a few minutes later and she waited as he climbed out of the car and opened the door, jerking both girls to the side.
“Give me the card,” he demanded.
“Not until you unfasten us,” she answered. “We need to use the loo and we need something to eat. Let us go into the station to get some snacks at least and I’ll let you have my card.”
“You go, she stays here,” he growled, unfastening her wrist from the door.
“No, we both go so we can use the toilet while you fill the car up, or I don’t give you my card.”
“I can always take it from you,” he smiled that yellow, bad breathed grin at her.
“Try it and I’ll scream so loud they’ll hear us back in London.” Sandra stared at the man, reigning in her emotions while she forced herself to remain calm. Right now all she wanted was to break his ugly nose again.
“I give you five minutes and I’ll be watching you from the window. You talk to anyone and I start shooting, understand.”
“This is France, even if I wanted to talk to anyone I couldn’t. Again, I don’t speak the language, duh.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm as they connected eyes.
“But she does,” he said nodding to Sabrina.
“Then start filling the damned tank and come in with us if you’re so worried about what we’ll do away from you.” Bachmeier narrowed his eyes to her and reached across the seat unfastening the cuffs that held them together. He leaned his knee into Sandra’s leg and smiled as she gasped in pain, while he unfastened Sabrina’s wrist from the door.
“Try anything like that again and you had better keep my hands tied,” she warned him standing up out of the back seat. “I broke your nose once,
next time it will be worse.”
“I still owe you
for that,” he growled and she could see the fear flicker in his eyes as she narrowed her gaze and took half a step forward.
“Good luck trying
to collect.” Sandra stood there a moment longer than even she expected, her tone and her stance challenging to him, but it was he who backed down first and slammed the car door shut.
“Five minutes,” he growled, though perhaps not as strong as a moment ago. “
Make sure you pay for the petrol.”
“
Whatever,” she answered as rude as possible, turning and taking Sabrina by the hand, pulling her toward the convenience store.
“Sandra, I thought he was going to hit you,” she whispered when
they pulled the glass doors open and walked down the aisle toward the bathrooms.
“So did I at first,” she whispered back. “But he’s afraid; I don’t know if it’s me or Creighton, but he’s scared. I think we can use that to our advantage.”
“Please be careful,” Sabrina sobbed once they were in the bathroom alone, the door locked on the one toilet room.
“I need you to stay strong,” Sandra whispered, just in case he followed them and was listening outside the door. “What did Morris tell you?”
“She said there were three officers with her and that you were armed,” Sabrina said in a whisper so low Sandra had to strain to hear her. “Andrew and Creighton are on their way to France and they know about the watch. What’s with the watch?”
“It’s one of your brother’s newest designs,” she smiled, glancing at the face that glowed yellow. “It’s a tracking device. He knows where we are and he’s following us.” Not a complete lie, she told herself, but it visibly made her sister-in-law seem less anxious.
“Why didn’t you let her save us?” Sabrina asked as Sandra pulled her pants down and sat on the toilet.
“We have to see who is on the other
end of those phone calls or we’ll never be free of this.”
“I’m really scared; what if he tries to shoot us, or…” her voice failed as she thought about the lustful ways he had been looking at her.
“He won’t,” Sandra said, but she knew there really wasn’t anything to stop him if he really had a mind to do so. “He wants the money from Creighton and he knows if he harms us, he won’t get it.”
“I wish I was as brave as you are,” Sabrina said as the toilet flushed and Sandra stood up.
“I wish I was as brave as I sound,” she said stepping to the sink to wash her hands. “You’d better use the toilet; I don’t know how many more times I can use the excuse of motion sickness to stop.”
They stepped out of the small bathroom a few minutes later to find Bachmeier standing near the entrance as though guarding
it, stepping aside as a woman with her three small children entered the store. He looked to Sandra and smiled a wicked grin as though to warn her he would shoot everyone, even the children, if she tried anything. Sandra glared to him, but chose to ignore it as she gathered several items off the shelves; chips, cookies, juice – her husband’s personal brand of course - candy bars and pretzels then walked to the counter and handed the cashier her credit card.
“Tell him to add the
petrol,” Bachmeier snapped, making Sabrina actually jump. She turned to the man and spoke to him in French watching as he nodded his head. Fifty two euros later and they were back in the car, heading north once again. Sandra had convinced him to leave them unfastened so they could eat and hopefully prevent having to stop again…for a while at least. He locked the child locks on the back doors before feeling comfortable enough to drive on.
Sandra managed to get a glimpse behind them at the white SUV that was pulled off the side of the road, noticing Morris in the front seat. As much as she was glad to see her, she would much rather have preferred seeing Creighton. She wasn’t sure if they were flying in or taking the train, but she was certain he was nearby. Her watch face had turned from yellow to blue and she knew they were being tracked, but it wasn’t good enough. She was anxious and eager to see him again, to be held in his arms and told that he loved her.
Sabrina had seen the white vehicle herself and felt suddenly much more at ease, a fact Sandra hoped their kidnapper didn’t take notice of. Fortunately for them, he was too consumed with his cell phone to notice much else.
They drove on for nearly an hour more, watching the sun set as they sped through the towns, ignoring the main roads. Sandra glanced behind her as she adjusted her position in the seat in order to glance out the back window. The white SUV was gone, but the green Suburban behind them made her smile; Morris had switched out drivers as another team pulled in behind them. She was certain of it when the driver caught her eye and nodded softly, just enough for her to see it.
Bachmeier seemed to be getting nervous and she knew she had to do something to keep his eyes off the vehicle behind them. Taking a deep breath, she glanced to Sabrina who was actually dozing against the side door.
“Where are we going?” she asked the man in a soft tone, hoping to keep him calm.
“None of your business,”
he snapped in return.
“How did you get away from that van before it caught fire?”
“I had help.” He smiled as he glanced through the rear-view mirror.
“The same help that got you out of jail early?”
“I was released on good behavior,” he snarled. Sandra ignored this and continued talking. The man wasn’t very intelligent and she was sure she could get a bit more information from him if she worked hard enough
“
What makes you think Creighton owes you?”
“He put me in prison, he deserves the same kind of hell I had.”
“So you don’t think you deserved to go to jail for trying to kill him?”
“I didn’t try to kill him; I was trying to get my job back. The gun just went off; it was an accident.”
“One shot is an accident, two is coincidental, but three is attempted murder.”
“What makes you such an expert at guns?”
“I’m an American, remember?” she asked, trying to keep him talking. She knew with his distraction she could learn something more about all of this and how to help Creighton and Andrew put a stop to him and his partner.
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Have you ever heard of Al Capone? General Custer and the Indians? Jessie James? Guns are a part of our heritage and we know the difference between accidental shootings and murder.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” he snarled. “I think it would be best if you just shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
“Why are you afraid of him?” she asked, ignoring his threat. Bachmeier looked at her through the rear-view mirror again, his eyes glaring at her in the dim light of the interior console.
“I don’t fear him,” he said in a low tone that sounded more like an angry hiss.
“Then why not go after him directly? Why take your anger out on his family and property? That’s the kind of actions that shout coward.” The car swerved as he turned around to confront her, his arm rose as though to hit her, but he quickly adjusted his steering and ground his teeth together.
“I won’t tell you again to shut your damned mouth.” His voice was low but threatening and Sandra decided it was probably a good idea to do as he said, but not before folding her arms across her chest like a sulking child.
“Fine,” she said with as much venom and irritation as she could summons. “But I don’t think your partner would want to know you’re afraid of my husband.”
“I told you I’m not afraid of anything, especially that farm boy.”
“So stop and let us out; you can go find Creighton for yourself. I’m sure the two of you can take him…or at least give it a good attempt.”
“We’re not ready to take him on just yet,” the man snarled with a sickening grin. “His time will come soon enough.”
“Whatever,” she said again. “It just seems like a waste of time to me. This whole scenario is like a paperback novel; you’re the muscles, he’s the brains and between the two of you, you may manage to shake things up a bit, but only until the cops find you.”
“What do you know about any of this?” he asked in an angry tone. “He’s not the brains, I am; I’m the one who thought up the threats; I’m the one who set the animals loose and I’m the one who managed to get hold of both of you. He’s just sitting back in his cushy flat telling me what to do. If it wasn’t for me, he’d still have those idiots after him. Damn fool and his gambling, that’s the real waste of time.”
“So how much are you asking as ransom; two, three million? That’s not really much to divide between two people. Why not ask for more, or better yet, keep it for yourself. That’s what I would do.” She turned her head and saw the suburban pull up alongside of them. The dark skin man in the passenger seat stared at her with concern as they pulled ahead of Bachmeier while the familiar white SUV turned onto the road behind them again.
Sandra knew they were safe but hoped their visitors didn’t do anything to rescue them just yet. She was determined to find out who was on the other end of those phone calls and stop the harassment and fears once and for all. She just hoped there was enough strength left in her tired frame to deal with the events she knew were about to commence. She told Creighton that a person learned to read the air around them and right now the small
confines of the sedan was filled with electricity and anxiety; but from which one of them was it being emitted was the question.
“Nobody’s asking you and we are
going for more,” Bachmeier answered, his hideous laughter filling the car. “Fifteen million; that’s what we want,” he said proudly. “How’s that for a nice sum eh?”
“Yeah I guess, for
amateurs. I happen to know my husband is worth more than that, at least five times more. He’d pay all of it to get rid of you two.”
“He doesn’t even know where we are; he still thinks I’m dead, I heard it on the news.”
“His brother told him you were still alive,” she said, hoping to keep her tone even as she played with the sleeve of her shirt. “The autopsies on the bodies in the van proved it. Why else would he increase security at the farm?” Bachmeier was quiet for a few minutes, his eyes shifting from the road to the woman’s reflection in the mirror.
“Doesn’t matter, he won’t figure out where we’re going or who I’m working with in time to save you.”
“You sure about that?” she asked with a wicked half grin. “Do you think he doesn’t know your little Italian friend is waiting for us?”