Perilous (20 page)

“Good. Where is Callie?”

“With Melissa, Jeff, and Tommy, back at Jim’s parents’ place up here.”

“They are safe?”

“Yeah. I have two sheriffs holding down the fort.”

“You should call your sister and tell her your father is all right,” Sandy said. “You know how she’ll get if you don’t do it right away.”

I nodded. “I called her already, but I told her I’d call her back when we got here. I should probably do that.”

My father looked at the sheriffs sitting at the kitchen table. “I think these guys want us to run through what happened, Sandy.”

“They can wait until I clean you up,” she said.

“That’s fine, ma’am,” Sommer said.

Viktor lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, dehydrated and weak. He hadn’t received as much as a scrap of food or a drip of water for two full days. His stomach no longer growled from being hungry. His body had seemed to accept the fact that death was inevitable if the starvation continued. He hadn’t been out of his cell or seen another person, aside from glimpses of whoever delivered empty trays through his food door. The last empty food tray had come through the slot a couple hours before. The shift change always occurred shortly after. He imagined that whoever Darryl would send would be someone from the graveyard shift. His forty-eight hours were up, and then some.

Viktor had had an uninterrupted two days to think. He considered every possible scenario dozens of times. His final decision was made sometime the day prior. All he needed was Darryl’s contact to enter. His mind went back to rehashing his plan.

A bang came from the other side of the door. The food slot opened, and a man spoke from the other side of the door. “Hands behind your back against the wall.”

Viktor rolled from his bed and obeyed though that wasn’t the normal operating procedure. He assumed the man to be the one Darryl had sent.

Viktor took his spot facing the back wall.

The key clanked in the door. Viktor heard it open, a man enter, and the door close. He felt someone grab his wrists and link them up in cuffs behind his back. He was pulled backward by the chains on the cuffs and seated on the bed. A guard stood before him. Viktor hadn’t seen that man before. He was a little over six foot, with jet-black hair and a matching black goatee. The guy was thick—more farm hand than bodybuilder. His nameplate read Oscar.

“Well? Are you ready to make the call for payment?” the guard asked.

“Oscar? Is that your first or last name?”

The guard smiled. “What are you going to do? File a complaint?”

“No, I was just wondering.”

“Keep wondering, then. Are you ready to make the call, or are you choosing door number two?”

Viktor wanted to keep the guy talking. He slid his fingers into the waistband at his hip. “What’s behind door number two?”

“I find a creative way for you to commit suicide in your cell.”

“I’ll make the call,” Viktor said.

“That’s what we thought you’d say.”

“How am I supposed to call if I’m cuffed and don’t have a phone?”

“I’ll dial on my phone and hold it next to your face.”

Viktor nodded. “How much are these guys paying you?”

The guard smirked.

“I’m serious,” Viktor said. “I’ll double whatever you’re getting. I have a way this can work out for the both of us.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“You let me use your phone so I can make a couple phone calls. That’s it. After that, I’ll make sure you get your money.”

“Sounds like a good deal. There’s one problem with that, though.”

“What?” Viktor asked.

The guard unbuttoned the top of his brown shirt and pulled it to the side. A black swastika tattoo covered the right side of his chest. He smiled. “I’m not for sale.” He buttoned his shirt back up.

Viktor shook his head. “Everyone is for sale for the right price.”

“Not everyone.” The guard rubbed his black goatee. “You are going to pay me, though. Just a little bonus so I don’t mention this to Mr. White.”

“Waylon is dead,” Viktor said.

“Not Waylon—Darryl Stills. They have a little thing here. Whoever is in charge takes White as their last name. You’re kind of new here. I could see how you wouldn’t be privy to that kind of information.”

“Darryl Stills, huh? Thanks.”

“For?”

“Nothing. I just forgot his last name. Let’s get this over with.”

“What’s the number?” the guard asked.

Viktor gave him Yury’s cell number. He continued working with the piece of fence metal in the keyhole of the cuffs behind his back. He felt a click through the cuff on his left wrist.

The guard walked the phone to him and held it against Viktor’s cheek. “You tell him the amount and read him this account number.” The guard pulled a scrap of paper from his shirt pocket. “It’s to be transferred immediately. If you say one other thing, this gets bad real fast.”

The guard took a step back. Viktor held the phone against his face and shoulder. The phone rang in his ear. The paper with the account number sat on his knee. Viktor took the loose cuff that was around his left wrist and held it like a knife in his right hand behind his back.

“Hello?” Yury answered.

“I can’t hear you.” Viktor looked at the guard. “I can’t hear anything through this phone.”

The guard leaned in to take it, and Viktor let the phone drop to the bed. His hands flew from behind his back. He grabbed the guard’s head with his left hand and swung his right fist, holding the cuffs, into the side of the man’s head. The point of the cuffs made direct impact with the guard’s temple. As soon as he made contact, he held the man behind the head and used him to get to his feet. Holding on to the guard’s head, Viktor kneed the man in the groin and then pulled his face directly into the point of Viktor’s knee. The guard dropped to the ground, and Viktor stomped on the back of the man’s head. His face bounced off the floor. As Viktor continued stomping, a blood pool grew. Viktor stopped before the man died, but his injuries would put him out of work for months—plenty of time for Viktor to not have to worry about the guard anymore.

Viktor pulled himself back onto the bed. He grabbed the guard’s cell phone and brought it to his ear, breathing deeply.

“Yury? Are you there?” Viktor asked.

“Yes. What the hell was that?”

“No time to explain. What is going on? Is it done?”

“Not yet. I’m taking care of it myself. The so-called team that was hired didn’t pan out. I had to fire them.”

“All of them?”

“The cop took care of a couple. I took care of the rest. They ruined a perfectly good opportunity. This probably would have worked better if it was handled in house.”

“I didn’t want it coming back at me while I was dealing with a court case.”

“I know. It just could have been handled better. These guys weren’t pros.”

“I had to take what I could get, Yury. So, you’re taking care of it yourself now?”

“It’s underway. It should be done within a couple hours.”

“Good. I have a couple names for you. I need some leverage on these guys. Do you have something to write with?”

“Sure. Let me just grab my little pad here. I’m ready.”

“First is a Darryl Stills. He’s some white-trash Nazi that’s in here. I need him neutralized. He also has a buddy named Kenny. I think his last name is Winter.”

“Inmate as well?”

“Yes.”

“Is that it?”

“No.” Viktor went to the floor and dug through the guard’s pockets. He removed his wallet and slid out his driver’s license. “I also need the same treatment on an Anthony Oscar. He’s a skinhead guard here.”

“Got it. I’ll relay the message.”

“Okay. I don’t know when I’ll talk to you again, Yury. Just get everything taken care of.”

“Will do.”

Viktor clicked the button to hang up. He wiped his prints from the cell phone and tossed it onto the floor. Viktor took off the guard’s belt, pulled down his pants, and removed the guard’s keys. Then Viktor unlocked his cell door and pulled it open. He tossed the keys on the floor, and they slid and came to rest next to the guard in a pool of his blood.

Viktor sat down on the bed and put his right hand behind his back. He clicked the left cuff back around his wrist and waited. Sooner or later, someone would see the open cell door on the security-video feed or notice it while making rounds. They would see the open cell door and one of their guards facedown in blood. Ten minutes passed before anyone came.

Viktor heard keys jingling and boots thumping the floor. Guards with shields filled his doorway.

“Get on the ground!” a guard called.

Viktor obeyed.

“We need medical!” another guard shouted.

They pulled Viktor from his cell. He went along quietly.

A guard pressed Viktor face-first into the wall of the hallway. To his left, a couple of medical staff jogged toward him. The two went into Viktor’s cell to attend to the injured guard. Another man in a suit headed toward him. He seemed to be some form of authority figure.

He stopped next to Viktor. “I’m Deputy Captain Holcomb. What happened here, inmate?”

“I was in my cell. The guard asked me to get against the back wall and place my hands behind my back, which was weird because we normally use the slot for that, and our hands are cuffed in front. I obeyed his order either way. He then entered, cuffed me, and tried to rape me. I was forced to defend myself.”

“He tried raping you?” the deputy asked.

Viktor nodded. “The guy is a Nazi too. He showed me a giant swastika tattoo on his chest before he pulled his pants down. Your guards have been starving me for days.”

Holcomb went to look in the cell.

The deputy asked if the guard had been found with his pants down. Another guard confirmed. Holcomb asked about the tattoo and received another confirmation. The chief deputy then asked why the guard was in the cell in the first place. No one answered. Viktor watched another person from the infirmary wheel a stretcher toward his cell.

He faced the wall and smirked thinking of the plan he’d executed.

They’ll suspend the dirty guard pending an investigation, and the mention of being starved will ensure my meals in the future.

Viktor could barely contain his smile.

Darryl and Kenny will be my biggest supporters if they want their families to stay alive.

All that remained was getting himself out of the SHU. Viktor had an idea.

“Chief Deputy!” he called.

“Shut your mouth, inmate,” said the guard holding him.

The deputy exited the cell. “Yes?”

“I fear that I’m going to get retaliation from these guards in here. I honestly fear for my life.”

The chief deputy stared at him, thinking.

I’d made the call to my sister twenty minutes prior. I let her know we were back at the cabin and urged her to just stay put for the night, saying we would get together in the morning. She wouldn’t listen. She, and everyone else, would be at my father’s any minute.

I was leaning against the sink in the kitchen. As Sandy applied butterfly stitches to my father’s head, they went through the entire time they’d been held captive, up until we found them. Sommer, Wakkman, and Esler sat around the kitchen table taking their statements.

I checked the time—almost eleven at night. Because the time in Florida was close to midnight, I didn’t expect to get any more updates from Faust for the night. Prior to taking my father and Sandy’s statements, Sommer and Wakkman had gone through the three phones we’d found. The only numbers called belonged to the phones sitting in front of us. That was a dead end.

Purwin checked in to let us know he printed the two bodies from the trunk as well as the deceased shot in the head. He e-mailed copies of the cards to Agent Faust. He was planning to be back out to the area shortly, to continue gathering evidence. I wanted to call Faust in the morning to see if he came up with any IDs.

Sommer was on the phone with the Antigo hospital. He clicked off and looked at me. “All they say is the guy is in surgery—alive when he went in—and to check back in the morning.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Kinnear was taken to the same facility.”

“How is he?” I asked.

“In recovery.”

“Good.”

“I’m going to drive out there in the morning to check on Kinnear and hopefully talk to the man with the stomach wound if he makes it.”

“I’ll probably join you.” Sommer let out a long breath and rattled his fingers across the top of my parents’ kitchen table. He looked at the clock. “Wakkman, Esler, and I are going to have to take off. Our shifts were done almost five hours ago.”

“That’s fine.”

“We have three guys who are going to stay here, and up the street, through the night. Purwin is going to pull an all-nighter. He called in another guy from the team to assist. They’ll probably be in and out of here through the night as well.”

The three sheriffs stood from the table. I shook their hands and thanked them for all the help.

My father walked to me in the kitchen. He crossed his arms over his wide chest. While he was a couple inches shorter than I, he was still a good-sized man. “Do you want to give me a hand getting these windows sealed up?” he asked. “I have some plastic sheeting in the garage we can use. At least it will keep the wind and snow out until I can get someone out here to replace them.”

I stood from the table. “I’ll do it, Dad. Just sit down and relax.

“I don’t need you to do it for me. A little knock on the head isn’t going to put me out of commission.”

I nodded. “Sorry about the house.”

“It’s just like when you were eighteen. I leave you alone for a day, and you trash the place.” He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re all right, Son. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I looked at his scabbed-over knuckles. “You messed that guy up pretty good, Dad.”

“You bet your ass I did. I beat the hell out of the one. Knocked his teeth down his scrawny throat. The other one would have gotten the same treatment if he didn’t hit me with the butt of his rifle.”

“They probably would have killed you.”