by Demi-X
Marc dragged him by his arm to the van, where the transport men were
already sitting in the front, impatient to leave.
Victor stumbled along behind Marc, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. His
head ached something fierce, and his body had felt like he had been hung in a
gym and used as a heavy punching bag for some large boxer. In away it had
been. He looked back at Mac once, but then he was forced to turn around as
Marc switched his grip, so that he was now being held by the back of his neck.
Instead of the inmate leading him, he was now being guided from behind.
Victor balked when it came time to get into the van, but Marc pushed him
roughly from behind, and the agent's body disappeared into the dark depths of
the back of the windowless cube van, and out of Gant's sight, presumable
forever, he thought.
Initially, Mac had pushed Marc's invading hands away from his
unconscious partner. But the inmate paid no attention to him other than to
give the agent a hard shove away, sending the kneeling Mac back a couple of
feet and landing flat on his ass. Marc flipped Victor around, undid the tether
behind the agent and pulled the now some what cognizant agent to his feet, and
began to take him away.
Mac watched silently, ignoring Bobby, the other musketeer, as he held onto
Mac's tether and undid him too. Bobby wrapped his fists amongst Mac's shirt
collar and hauled the agent up to his feet. Victor was pushed inside the van,
and he disappeared from Mac's sight. Only when he could no longer see Victor,
did Mac turn his attention to what the inmate was doing to him.
Bobby slammed Mac into the wall behind them and, getting right into the
agent's face he said coldly, "Gant's going to miss your friend. I think Marc
will too. He's in there right now saying good bye to lover boy in his own
'special' way." Bobby stepped back a pace so that he was no longer chest to
chest with the agent. "But me? I say good riddance to you both. If the 'main
man' didn't want you in mint condition, I'd take a few minutes to say goodby to
you in my own way." As Bobby spoke, a fine spray of spittle hit Mac in the
face. He shook the agent a few times to emphasize his point. Which Mac took
to mean that the inmate was not talking about anything sexual.
Mac leaned his head to the side and wiped away the moisture as best as he
could by running his cheek over his shoulder "Say it don't' spray it!" he
complained to the inmate. Then warned, "I'll be back and I won't be wearing
chains, then we'll see how tough you are in a fair fight." Mac spit at the
inmates feet, his aim was true and the gob landed right between Bobby's
runners.
Bobby looked down and scowled at the shiny wet patch, he gave the agent
an evil smile before jabbing his finger into Mac's chest and saying, "Next time
it is, then. If you live." He laughed for a second then he released his hold
all together and wound his fist around Mac's waist chain. "Come on pretty boy,"
he said evenly, "Destiny has a date with death." He pulled Mac along toward
the waiting vehicle.
Bobby stepped into the darkness after he had pushed Mac in before himself.
Just as the men entered the back of the van, Marc stood up and backed away from
Victor, who was sitting on the floor, cross legged and propped up in the corner
near the front. He turned around and smiling he wiped at his mouth with the
back of his hand. Marc smirked directly at Mac and said to him sarcastically
as he was leaving, "See ya—Wouldn't want to be ya!" Both inmates laughed out
loud, like it was the funniest one-liner they had ever heard. Marc walked out
and left Bobby to settle Mac in. Which he did by removing the waist chains and
cuffing the agent in the front of himself with normal hand cuffs that had about
4 inches of chain in-between the metal bracelets. Bobby pushed Mac down
roughly and glanced down at Victor. Then he turned back to Mac and said,
"Terrence will give you a couple of pee breaks on the way up. Good luck, hope
you're a fast runner."
Mac, uncharacteristically, said nothing settling instead for giving the
inmate the best fuck you look that he could. Bobby left the van and slammed
the doors shut behind himself. Banging on them with his fist to let the
Terrence, the transport driver, know that the cargo was safely tucked away and
ready to go.
As the vehicle pulled out, Mac who was sitting on the floor across from
Victor, studied his partner. Victor was staring contemplatively at him, wide
eyed and unblinking. But Mac could tell that Victor was not really seeing him.
"Victor," he said gently. When that elicited no response Mac straightened out
his leg and used his foot to shake the other agents leg. "Victor." He said
with more conviction.
Victor blinked his vision clear, and he finally 'saw' Mac. The van was
still passing through the prison grounds and the lighting, was quite bright for
2:00 in the morning. Mac could see clearly on his partners face, a fresh bite
mark surrounded by a purple/red bruise at the right corner of his mouth.
Obviously a going away present from Marc. THAT BASTARD! No wonder he was
in the van with Vic so long! He'll pay too when we get out of this!
The vehicle lurched to a sudden stop and Mac guessed that they probably
about to pass through the main gates out of Kensington. From the walls of
confinement and possible death, to a wide-open forest and a certain death, all
within the span of 24 hours.
Victor himself, took no notice of where he was, or what was going on. He
just sat there, chewing on his lower lip contemplatively. Making Mac wonder
what was taking Victor so long in answering his simple question. Mac started
wonder whether or not Victor had even heard him. He thought that he had. Mac
tried one more time, "Victor. Did you hear me? I asked if your all right."
The van started to slowly move again.
Victor released his bottom lip and said finally, "I'm okay."
Mac opened his mouth to say something but shut it again when Victor
abruptly turned his head to the side, away from Mac and rested it against the
side of the van.
Victor shut his partner out with one simple, silent gesture. He closed his
eyes, and listened to the voices in his head tell him everything he didn't want
to hear about himself. Then the van turned a sharp corner and the agents were
blanketed with darkness. Saving Victor from having to sit there and endure
the silent looks of pity his best friend and lover was giving him.
In the seconds before Victor turned away, and they were immersed into the
night, Mac's focus had gone from the bite mark, to Victor, whose face was
masked with misery, silently telling a tale that spoke of despondency and woe.
He looked so lost to Mac, and even though they were not 3 feet apart; Victor
was a million miles away from him. The remoteness in Victor's eyes broke Mac's
heart and he longed to make his partner feel better, but he knew that right
now, he could do nothing.
Victor's terse reply of 'I'm okay' said it all—yet said nothing. He was
reverting back to the only way he knew how to cope with extremely stressfully
situations; by withdrawing from those around him. Mac knew that Victor would
hold everything that had happened inside of himself, yet still tell his
partner, with a false smile that everything was okay with him. Which was too
bad, considering all the progress that he had made inside Kensington; telling
Mac at all about Gant and Walker in the first place had been a major break
through for him. Their relationship, as far as Mac was concerned, would only
get better with open, honesty between them. It was major deal for Victor to
have to go through the assault alone, Mac felt privileged that Victor had let
him, too bad it was for such a short
The events of the last hour, the verbal assault by Gant, and some sort of
yet another physical attack by the musketeer Marc, had proven just too much for
Victor to take. Mac assumed that Victor was simply protecting himself the
best way that he could, by insulating himself in a hard-shell that would be
almost impossible for anyone, including Mac himself to penetrate.
And Mac was helpless to stop Victor's defense mechanisms from kicking in,
he could only sit by and watch helplessly as his partner, his lover, tried to
hold himself together.
Mac's eyes slowly adjusted, and he stared at the shadow that was Victor.
After about twenty minutes, he heard deep, even breathing followed by a soft
snore. Mac smiled to himself. He was glad that Victor had managed to fall
asleep. At least he could escape the reality of their situation for a few
hours. It would be good for him to get some rest.
Reaching out with manacled hands, Mac grabbed an old blanket that he had
seen when he first entered the vehicle, and balled it up into a makeshift
pillow. He rested his head to the side and shut his eyes. Much to his
surprise, Mac felt himself immediately drawn into slumber, and within a few
seconds, he was asleep too.
"Noooo..." Victor mewled out for the third time. His head twisted from side
to side, and the handcuffs he wore rattled eerily through the darkness, like
he was trying to pull the restraints off in his sleep.
Mac sighed heavily at his partners restlessness. His mumbling and
writhing around had woken him up from his own sleep ten minutes earlier. Mac
wondered if maybe it might not be more merciful to just wake Victor up and
spare him from his nightmares, rather then let him go suffering whatever it was
that had him so terrorized in the dream world.
"Wait stop!" Victor said clearly, cutting through the dimness.
Unable to stand it anymore, Mac crawled over to Victor and rubbed his
partners shoulder gently with one cuffed hand.
Victor, jerked awake in instantly. Startled, it took him a second to
realize where he was and where he was not. "Oh shit." He said listlessly.
"Are you okay?" You've been talking and thrashing around in your sleep
for the last ten minutes or so." Mac could just make out Victor in the dark,
and could see that his partner was sweating despite the coldness in the back of
the van. "Victor, talk to me... whatever it is that your feeling or thinking..
You can tell me. I'll just listen." Then he added softly, "I promise."
Victor hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He brought it back
up and looked at Mac.
Even it the dim light of the van, Mac could see that Victor's eyes were
glassy with unshed tears.
"FUCK!" Victor roared in frustration, shaking chain of the handcuffs.
"Even in this shitty lighting I can see how your looking at me Mac. I want you
to stop it!"
Mac turned his head away and studied the doors of the van. "In what way,"
he asked, "do you think I'm looking at you?"
Victor turned his own face away, "Like I'm wounded. That somehow I'm
damaged..."
Mac interrupted, "Vic, no... that's not true."
"Yes it is." Victor said dully. "It's like." He hesitated trying to find
the words to express himself with, "like your not looking at me like I'm your
equal anymore. Or your partner even." Victor said firmly. "You see me as a
victim. Someone who needs to be taken care of; looked after... Shit!" The
threatening tears had finally spilled over. "Fuck it. I hate this shit. I
hate feeling this way..." Unable to convey what he was feeling, Victor stopped
talking all together and wiped at his running nose with the sleeve of his coat.
He kept his head turned away, refusing to meet his partners gaze. Mac could
deny things all he wanted to Victor. But he knew what he had seen, even if it
just was for a split second, in Mac's large, expressive eyes.
"Victor. If you won't let me see you, then can I at least hold you?"
Asked Mac softly.
Victor wiped furiously beneath his eyes; as if getting rid of the tears
would wipe away the pain of simply being him. "Yes" he whispered finally.
Mac maneuvered himself so that his arms slipped over Victor, and he was
sitting behind the agent. He pulled him back so that Victor was sitting
between his bent knees, and Victor's head rested on Mac's left shoulder. "Tell
me what it is Vic."
Still unable to synchronize his feelings with his thoughts Victor just
started talking. "It's just that I'm in a place I've never been before. And I
hate it. My whole life, I've always been the one to come to someone else's
rescue. I was the perfect son, the best big brother, honor roll student and
stellar rookie cop. I've never felt this shitty about myself, even when I was
set up by my partners in the 'narc' department and sent to jail. I knew that I
was innocent of the charges, and I clung to that knowing someday that would be
proven right. Then the Director came along, offered me a job at the agency,
and I was finally vindicated."
Victor sniffed, and then wiped at his nose again using his sleeve as a
Kleenex, "I've never been a victim before Mac." Victor spat the word
victim out like it was an obscenity. "Never. Not even when I was
locked up the first time. During that stretch in prison, I had, at least, my
dignity. Now I don't even have that any more." He licked his lips and brought
his own cuffed hands up and covered Mac's hands with his own. He concentrated
for a few seconds and then smiled into the darkness, when he felt the
comforting thrum of Mac's steadily beating heart against his back. Reassured,
Victor spoke again. "Everything was going along just fine after the Director
hired me. I mean that. Even when LiAnne broke up with me, I knew things would
be okay, that I would be all right. But then we got this assignment
and..."
Victor took a deep breath, "I'm 35 years old for Christ sakes' Mac.
Thirty-five! I'm a fully grown man. The bull shit I've gone through the last
couple of weeks is not supposed to happen to someone my age! A young guy
sure... but me? Fuck!" Victor swore again, irritated. The rights words
seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth like peanut butter. "Christ Mac.
Just listen to me. I'm so closed up that I don't even know how to tell you
what I'm feeling. Except that I feel like all my emotions are wound up into a
tangled string, and I can't figure out how to undo the knots." Victor let go
and knuckled away the tears that he was silently shedding.
"I know how you feel Victor. After were done with this mission, go and
see someone, the right person will help you deal with things..." Mac squeezed
his partner tighter to his chest. He spoke softly again, "A long time ago,
when I was a kid back in Hong Kong, I had a lot of bad stuff happen to me too.
Not quite the same as what happened to you, but similar crap." He kissed the
top of Victor's head. "I don't have all of the answers, but I can tell you
this... Over time the memories fade and the nightmares ease. Then one day
you'll wake up and look in the mirror and you'll realize that what happened to
you in Kensington isn't the first thing on your mind that morning. And from
there everything gets better. The bad memories are eventually replaced by
other, hopefully better ones."
Victor, wrapped up tightly in Mac's embrace, thought about the sage
advice given to him by
his partner. And he knew that Mac was right. All he had to do was get out of
this latest predicament to let the healing process begin. Victor laced his
fingers through Mac's. "You're all I need to get better." His comment was
answered with another kiss to the top of his head. "You've never said anything
about Hong Kong to me before. I'm sorry for anything that happened to you."
"Well it was a long time ago." Mac said evenly. He didn't care to drudge
up dead memories of the streets Hong Kong.
"Want to know what I was dreamng about?" Victor asked, changing the
subject.
"Yes, tell me. It might help to talk about it." Replied Mac.
"Okay." Victor agreed. "I dreamt that I was in a room that had hundreds
of doors in it. Walker was chasing me and swinging his night stick at me. I
was running away from him, going from door to door looking for a way out of
that room and away from him. But every time I opened a door, there was Gant,
standing there, grinning and licking his lips, waiting for me. I'd slam the
door and then go to the next. But Gant would be behind the next door too. I
couldn't escape. There was no getting out of that room or away from either one
of them." Victor sniffed, though this time his runny nose was due to the cold
temperature of the back of the van. "You woke me up just when Gant stepped out
of the door way and into the room with me and Walker."
"Ugly stuff." Mac said softly.
"It was. And now I can't get my mind off of Matt." Victor said.
"Matt?" Said Mac, thinking that the mention of Matt had come from left
field.
"Yeah, Matt. I can't help but think about how alone he must have felt
all those years ago when he was standing on the street corner just trying to
get by. And now, he's all alone again. Beat up and at the mercy of every
twisted predator in that place. He's done enough time." Victor twisted his
head so that he was looking directly up at Mac, his breath warm on Mac's face
as he petition, "If I don't make it out of this mess alive, will you make sure
he gets out of jail. Make the Director free him. She can do it, her tentacles
reach far enough into the government."
Horrified at the thought of Victor not living through the ordeal they
were about to face, Mac protested to his partner firmly, "Well, your going to
make it through this. So you can quit thinking otherwise. We'll go to the
Director together."
Admiring Mac's optimistic attitude, Victor agreed, "Okay. We'll do it
together."
Mac studied Victor's face for a minute, then leaned in and still cradling
the man, kissed him deeply, gently working the tip of his tongue into Victor's
mouth. They continued kissing for a while, then pulled apart mutually.
Mac said to Victor practically, "We should get some sleep. We're going to
need our strength come morning."
"You're right." Acknowledged Victor.
Both men settled themselves into a comfortable position. Mac resting his
cheek on the top of Victor's head, closed his eyes and immediately drifted off
to sleep. Victor however, did not even bother with closing his eyes. To shut
them meant falling asleep, sleeping meant dreaming and to dream meant to relive
his experiences at Kensington. Something he did not want to do. Victor
stared, wide-eyed into the unlit recesses of the van. Comforted by the even
breathing and the steady heartbeat of his partner.
The van slowed and then came to a complete stop. Both men woke
instantly. Victor could not remember dozing off, but obviously he must have.
Mac kissed Victor's cheek then pulled his arms up and over the man. Victor
crossed over to the other side of the van so that he was sitting opposite of
Mac, both men chilling quickly now that their body heat was no longer combined.
Mac extended his long legs and reached up into the air with his arms and
Victor mirrored his partners' movements. Each agent stretching, as best as
they could manage with handcuffs on.
"I guess were here." Commented a sleep weary Mac.
"Wherever that is." Mumbled Victor back. A door slammed up front and
both men snapped their heads toward the direction of where the sound had come
from. They listened to gravel crunch underfoot, then the sound stopped.
Suddenly the doors to the back of the van swung open, and the agents were
flooded with bright, early morning sunlight. They each shaded the glare of the
warm sun by putting their hands to their brows.
Terrence, the driver looked at both men then said monotone, "Were here."
Mac looked at Victor and shrugging his shoulders, quipped, "See I told you."
Part Seventeen
The agents, both tired and hungry, crawled out of the back of the van and
stood up on achy legs. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, in a broad
strip of bright, early morning sunlight that shone calmly between two very
regal, overgrown douglas fir trees. Mac looked around and saw that they were
totally surrounded by forest. Cedars, birch and more fir trees made up their
prison walls instead of bullet proof glass and cement.
Victor heard the sound of trickling water. He turned his head in the
direction of the sound and noted that the source of the pleasant gurgling was a
small creek, about three feet deep and perhaps six feet wide; that ran along
the left side of the lodge. It flowed, Victor noted mentally, upstream. He
elbowed Mac and whispered out of the side of his mouth his observations.
Mac nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes focused on the four, fifty
something men who were now standing at the entrance to the lodge, waiting for
their arrival.
Victor took one final look around, saw the direction in which they had come,
and then quickly compared it to the sun and the lodge, before he was roughly
shoved in the direction of the Mac, who was now walking toward the older men.
The two transport guys, as Victor had come to think of them, did not enter
the lodge, but waited at the entrance. A man who appeared to be in charge
handed the two men who had driven the van an envelope. Inside was their
payment for doing the driving. Once the envelope was in their hands, the men
turned around and left, without thanking the man who had paid them.
The agents were unchained and each was given a bathroom break, then a
hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. Though no longer confined by the
handcuffs, Mac and Victor were not left unguarded. Two of the four men sat at
either door—there appeared to be only two- and kept their guns and eyes
trained on the two as they ate.
Both Victor and Mac ate in silence, with the exception of the rude, loud
smacking noises Mac was deliberately making. Victor suspected he was
intentionally trying to irritate the four 'gents', as per his usual behavior.
Once done with eating, the agents were led to a living room and ordered
to sit on a pair of plain wooden stools. They plopped down in them and
immediately the 'leader' began to speak.
"Mac. Victor." The man looked at each agent as he said their name. "My
name is Sal Martin. That man there,î He pointed to another man, who was also
greying at the temples, ìIs William Lawson.î Then he pointed to the judge who
was guarding the main entrance to the lodge, ìHe's Austin Mayne and the other
gentleman at the kitchen exit is Joel Biggart.î Sal spread his arms wide and
said, "Welcome to our little clubhouse." He smiled warmly at the seated men,
like he had just asked them to join their social club or something. As he
talked, William Lawson came up to the agents and snapped a Polaroid picture of
each of them. The flash startled Mac, who had been looking around the room and
Victor, ready for the camera, managed to give the photographer a very nasty
scowl when it was his turn to have his photo taken.
As Sal talked on, Victor listened with one ear as he studied his
surroundings. His eyes followed the 'photographer' and saw that the man was
pinning up their photo's on a cork board; that had many other Polaroids thumb
tacked to it. Victor squinted and focused on the pictures, he could just make
out what they were, like he and Mac, they were pictures of men.
Trophy shots
Victor looked away from the board and continued with his visual
examination. As he looked at his surroundings, he was unaware that his hands
were alternating with each other and massaging out the dull pain from his
wrists, soreness from where the hand cuffs had bit into them. In the corner
of the living room there was a large animal cage. Big enough for a black
bear...
For a man?
His eyes flicked from the cage to Mac, who glanced back at him briefly, then
to Sal who was droning on about how he and Mac were the 'chosen ones'.
Sal finally stopped speaking and walked closer to the agents. Leaning
toward Victor he grabbed the agent's chin tightly and twisted Victor's head
back and forth roughly as he examined the bruises and the bite mark. He pushed
on the deep purple teeth marks with the pad of his thumb and when Victor
flinched reflexively, his body trying to pull away from the source that was
causing him the pain, Sal laughed at him.
Victor did not dare to bring his hands up and break the grip Sal had on
him, the three guns aimed for his heart, was enough of a deterrent. He knew
that he could have easily beaten any one of the men in the room when it came to
hand to hand, or the same weapon combat, but once again it was not a fair
fight, two men vs. shot guns ensured that the younger agents did not try
anything reckless.
Sal let him go and said sardonically. "I see you've been playing with
Gant and likely some of his inmate helpers. You're just his type of playmate.
Big eyes, lot's of lashes and husky."
"Fuck you" hissed Victor, embarrassed by Sal's all to correct assumptions.
Sal ticked his tongue. "Now, now Mr. Mansfield. No need for such vulgar
language." He turned his attention away from Victor, to Mac, the one he was
interested in. He stepped close to the agent but did not grab him like he had
done to Victor. "I see, " he said to Mac. "That you're unmarked as per my
instructions.î
Mac looked sideways at his partner and Victor returned a brief, innocent
looking glance. Mac scowled at Sal, waiting for the man to get just a little
bit closer to him.
The judge was wearing a side arm, tucked into the back of his designer
jeans. Victor wouldn't' have been able to see it, as Mac had only spotted the
tell tale bulge when the man had leaned over and grabbed Victor. The look Mac
had given Victor was a simple 'be ready' signal.
Victor had understood him allright. And Mac thought that if he could just
grab the blabbing judge and get at his piece then he and Victor could perhaps
get of this mess via a hostage. There was a nice shiny hummer parked around
the back of the lodge; Mac had seen it through a window. That would do nicely
when it came time to get them out of the forest.
The judge leaned in and Mac grabbed him up, lightning quick. Victor in
the mean time, had jumped up and went for the man closest to him, intending on
wrestling his rifle away. However, things did not go quite like the way the
agents had thought it would. And by the time the melee ended, Mac had managed
to get the judge's sidearm pulled and trained to his temple, while maintaining
a choke hold on him. But the three other judges had left Sal to his own
devices, and ganged up on Victor instead. Resulting with Victor laying flat on
his back on the hard wood floor, next to the grizzly bear rug looking extremely
pissed off. The three judges' weapons were trained solely on him.
Sal gurgled out, "Good try ace. But no dice. Let me go or your partner
down there makes a book end for the rug he's next to."
Mac gave Sal an extra squeeze around his throat before releasing the man;
he pushed the judge away from himself in disgust.
Victor glared up at the gun men and, reaching up, he swept away two of the
barrels pointing at his chest, each, with one hand. Victor stood and went back
to the stool that he had been seated on, and lowered himself onto it.
Victor spoke to Mac out the side of his mouth. "Nice try partner." He
said.
Mac, already sitting, casually shrugged his shoulders and said in return.
"Well it was worth a shot any ways."
"Yeah." Victor murmured back.
Sal finished straightening out his clothes, then he turned to Mac and said
matter of fact, as if they had never been interrupted by the scuffle, "You're
younger so you will go first. William and I will be tracking you."
Mac frowned at the judges and said sarcastically, "I'm honored, your honor."
Next to Mac, Victor snorted softly into the back of his hand.
Sal whirled toward Victor. "You think that's funny, do you?"
The agent stopped laughing. "Yeah. I do. You're going down, you and
your old geezer friends!" Victor said impudently.
The judge Sal's demeanor morphed instantly from calm to angry. He looked
over his shoulder at the judge named Joel and flicked his eyes toward Victor.
The man answered the signal by walking to the agent and standing beside him.
Victor looked between Sal and the man standing next to him. Wondering
what was going to happen next.
Sal said to Victor, under control now, "On the contrary, your the one
going down." And then the man standing next to the agent raised his shotgun
and struck Victor in the side of the head with the butt end of it.
Victor managed to raise his hands in a defensive manoeuver, and say
"hey..." before the rifle struck home. Right after the blow, Victor lay on the
floor, unconscious and unable to say anything at all.
Mac jumped up instantly yelling at the men, "GODDAMNED YOU" He dropped to
his knees beside his partner.
Judge Joel pointed his rifle at Mac's chest and said coldly, "Sit down."
Mac, seething with anger, rose slowly and went back to the stool. He kept
looking between Victor, the man who had rendered him unconscious and Sal. The
man, who had been introduced as William, stepped up to Mac and began talking to
him. The two judges, Joel and Austin, shouldered their high-powered rifles
and then put one hand each, under Victor's armpits. Together they dragged
Victor, all 200 lbs. of his dead weight, toward the cage that was sitting in
the corner.
Mac watched as his partner was unceremoniously carted away like a sack of
turnips. Mesmerized, his eyes followed the narrow, crimson blood trail that
marked the path to the cage. Victor's forehead had split open where the gun
butt impacted with his head.
William cleared his throat, his voice was soft and refined and sounded
like he had been raised in a background that spoke of 'old money' and a
'proper upbringing.' "Never mind him Mac. Right now, you need to be
concerned about yourself. He smiled warmly at the young agent.
William turned to Sal, totally unconcerned about Victor's current state,
and said, "He's perfect. His trophy will be the prettiest one yet."
Sal nodded in agreement. He turned to look at Victor who was still
unconscious and safely settled in the caged and commented back, "Too bad Gant
and his goons messed up the other one. He's not very photogenic anymore."
Mac glowered back and forth between the judges and then said impatiently,
"Are we going to get this show on the road or what?"
"Yes.Yes. Yes." William admonished, "We were just coming to that. Here's
the rules... There are no rules, it's a free-for-all... meaning you do what you
have to do to survive and we will track you down and kill you any ways." All
four men laughed in unison.
Mac merely looked blandly and them and thought,
So you think.
He turned his attention to his partner and stared at Victor's unmoving form.
He swallowed hard and couldn't help but think that Victor was so still he
almost looked dead.
Hopefully he'll manage to stay alive long enough for a rescue.
Mac knew that it was only a matter of time before the agency figured out
that they were missing. They would assuredly put two and two together and find
he and Victor, eventually and hopefully before it was too late for the both of
them.
Sal spoke, pulling Mac's thoughts away from Victor. He looked at judge
Sal, who was saying, "You will get a half hour head start... that's your only
advantage.
Mac raised his eyebrows. "You mean," he asked unbelieving, "that I don't
even get a weapon to help defend my self with."
"Of course not." William answered practically. "Were hunting you not the
other way around."
We'll see about that!
Mac grinned sarcastically at the judge then said insultingly, "Let me
guess. You started out on this path by shooting the bunnies in the rabbit
hutches back home on the estate when you were a kid."
Judge William paled, looking angry for the first time. "You impudent..."
Mac knew that he had hit some sort of a nerve. "Talk about shooting fish in
a barrel."
Sal patted his friend's shoulder, trying to calm the sputtering man. "No
need to get personal Mac." He said. "The clothes on your back-that's it.
Now," Sal looked at his expensive, all weather hunting watch, "I suggest you
get going, the clock is ticking." He smiled evilly at Mac.
The agent stood up, trying to decide which way to go. He was planning on
going out the front door of the lodge, but then he looked toward the small door
in the kitchen and spotted, on a counter near the door, an unopened wine bottle
and sitting next to it a small red pen knife. He darted his eyes over the
knife. Then with one last, wistful look at his partner, Mac said a silent
goodbye to him and ran toward the kitchen door. He stumbled, grabbed the
counter to stop his fall then expertly palmed the small utensil. Flinging open
the door dramatically, Mac ran outside.
The brisk morning air slapped him in the face. Stopping, Mac looked around
again, orienting himself to which way the stream ran and the position of the
sun in the sky. He compared it to when he and Victor had arrived earlier; in
turn told him which way was east and which way was west. Looking up at the
tall Cedars and Douglas fir trees that surrounded the lodge, Mac noted them and
filed away the tall timbers for later use as a land mark. Opening up his right
hand, Mac examined the stolen tool, noting that it was a Swiss wine utensil and
not actually a pocket knife.
It figures.
However it didn't matter anyway, as there was a small knife in the casing,
about the length of his pinky that was very sharp. The knife was for cutting
off the safety bands around the necks of the wine bottles. Along with the
knife, there was also a corkscrew which was sharp at the point, it too would
come in handy.
No screw top bottles of wine for that group.
Mac pushed the corkscrew and knife back into place and then shoved it into
his pants pocket. He was grateful that at least he had sort of a weapon now,
no matter how small, he would be sure make good use of it.
Mac had grown up in the crowded streets of Hong Kong. Many a time he had
been forced to rely on his sense of direction and his wits alone to get by.
Especially when fleeing from someone, he had just victimized by relieving them
of their wallets. This situation wasn't so different from the jams he had
gotten himself in way back when. With the exception of that instead of
running down alleys using buildings as his land marks; he would have to use the
trees. The forest was his city and the trees along with the stream were his
landmarks. Mac picked a direction and then he ran into the forest.
25 minutes later:
"Okay." William said, slapping the bolt home on his rifle. "Were out of
here." Joel and Austin, the two judges who would be tracking down Victor when
the time came, sat at the kitchen table.
Sal dropped a Polaroid camera into his small knapsack, zipping it up he put
it on. William was already wearing his knapsack. Both men tucked their
sidearms away into the appropriate holsters. Sal slung his rifle over his right
shoulder and said excitedly, "Lets do it." He sounded as exited as a teenager
who was attending his first rock concert.
4 hours later
Victor slowly emerged from his unconscious state and once he realized that
he was actually awake, he cracked his eyelids just enough to discovered that he
was being housed in a cage.
It has to be the one I saw in the corner of the livingroom.
The agent didn't dare open his eyes all the way, or even move his body for
that matter. For one- he didn't want to call attention to himself and two- his
head ached so bad that it had been excruciatingly painful for him just opening
up his eyes a fraction. Victor lay there, motionless by necessity, for several
minutes listening to the two judges discuss the changing face of the juvenile
criminal system.
The men debated in quiet, calm voices and sounded relaxed. As if they didn't
have a man, they thought to be unconscious, locked up in a bear cage. One
would never have known, from the tone of their voices that two of their party
was outside, right now, tracking and chasing another human being through a
giant forest with the intent of finding and killing him. Then, once that
person was dead, the hunters would take a Polaroid picture of the dead body.
Not only would the photograph serve as a trophy, but also as macabre
documentation of a man's demise. Grisly business indeed, and the judges may as
well as been waiting for their wives to return home from an afternoon of berry
picking, judging by their manner.
Victor's stomach turned in time with the throbbing in his head, and as he
lay there, on the cold cage floor fighting the urge to vomit, he heard a
shotgun blast. It came from a long way off, far into the distance. The
dreaded sound pierced through him like a fiery arrow, his stomach rolling over
and over, giving him no relief.
Right after the gun blast had sounded, Victor heard one of the judges say to
the other casually, 'That's Sal's gun. Mr. Ramsey is a goner.'
Then the other one said back, 'He lived longer than the last guy."
With those words ringing through his already tender brain, Victor was
unable to hold back his gorge any longer. Doubly sick with concussion and with
the thought that he would never see his best friend and lover again, he rolled
over and got to his hands and knees. A couple of short seconds later his
stomach let go, purging its contents onto the plain steel, grey coloured cage
floor. Luckily, there wasn't a whole lot left in his tender stomach from
breakfast. The less regurgitated contents meant less of a smell.
Victor's head throbbed twice as hard after puking and he broke out into a
heavy sweat. He was barely coherent, in fact, he hardly knew what he was
doing. Everything was so dream like... so surreal. He thought that he heard
the judges shouting, but he couldn't be sure. And mixed in with the yelling,
he could also just make out what he thought might be pounding on the door. But
his troubled psyche could only focus on the fact that Mac was gone. With his
head pounding faster than his own heart beat, Victor rolled to his back and
squeezed to one side of the cage. Laying back down he passed immediately into
oblivion.
The two men at the table heard a gunshot blast. One of them commented on
who's gun it was. Then they heard the sounds of vomiting and they knew that
their own 'target' had finally woken up. Judge Joel had turned to rebuke
Victor for soiling his tiny cell, when he heard gravel crunching underneath,
what had to be, several pairs of feet. Both men rose at the same time to check
out the sound, each of them reaching for their own guns simultaneously. But
before they could even leave the kitchen, there was pounding on the front door
and the tiny kitchen one as well.
Then without warning, both of the wooden doors were smashed open by a
battering ram. The two judges were swarmed by people, dressed in head to toe
black. The balaclava's included. Once the older men were properly subdued, a
petit red-haired woman stalked up to the men, she was followed in by a tall,
young Asian woman who looked pissed off and by a large bald black man, whose
expression was unreadable. The flame haired beauty stood directly in front of
the judges, she was dressed in a tight, black cat suit that showed her figure
off.
Both of the judges eyed her body appreciatively.
Standing only inches away, she bent over at the waist and spoke into
Austin Mayne's face, "Now gentlemen," She said calmly, "Just where the
HELL are my agents." Her voice coming out as sharp as a hunting knife.
Part Eighteen
Mac's Run
The air burst out of his tired lungs in large puffs, hugging a large
cedar for support, Mac panted heavily.
I'm using up too much energy. I have to pull myself together.
He had been running full bore, through the dense forest, for more than 20
minutes. Mac knew that running hard, the way he had been doing would only
bring the two hunting judges to him sooner. And he would rather that he saw
them later.
Relax Ramsey. Relax.
Mac calmed himself and tried coming up with some sort of a game plan, but
first, before he did anything else, he needed to rest. He had wasted most of
his energy stores by doing a great imitation of a 'chicken running with its
head cut off' routine. Mac flopped down on a large semi-hollow log and
cradled his head in his hands. He tuned out the grugling streams hypnotic
meter.
Somehow, he needed to cover his tracks of where he had been and try to
turn the tables on the hunters and start tracking them down instead. It was
only a matter of time before one or both of the judges found him.
He assumed that the judges would be tracking him together, and would only
split up if the trail led two separate ways. Mac needed to divide them. That
way he would have a fighting chance at conquering them. As he sat there
resting, a plan began to formulate.
He was somewhere deep in the forest, exactly where though, he had no idea.
He only knew that he was upstream from the lodge. Mac looked up into the sky,
found his directions, but decided that before he went back to the lodge he
would first have to get rid of the hunters. As soon as they were out of the
way, Mac intended on making his way back as fast as possible to Victor.
Mac finished figuring out the logistics of his plan. No longer tired from
his run, he jumped up and began to set up his scheme. Having no watch, Mac was
unable to tell time, so all he could do was estimate that he had about another
half hour before the judges found him. Standing on the fallen log, he looked
up and reaching up high, broke off a healthy, green branch from a maple tree.
Mac walked the length of the log to the creek, where he squatted down and used
the small knife to strip the leaves and peel the limb. Making good use of the
knife, he whittled a sharp point at one end of the bare branch. He was very
careful to let all of the debris fall into the water so it would be carried
down the stream; leaving no evidence for the judges to see. Mac walked the log
back to the still bushy maple and standing below it he looked up again, smiling
into the foliage.
Climbing the tree proved to be no obstacle for Mac. Once up amongst the
branches, he stashed the make shift spear safely within the sturdy limbs of the
tree. Clambering down Mac finished setting the rest of his booby trap and then
he set about covering his tracks near the tree and log. Once done, Mac walked
away in another direction and laid out a false trail that would be sure to
separate the hunters from the safety of each other.
40 minutes later
The judges finally picked up again, what they thought had to be Mac's
trail, the men had been following him for quite sometime. Both came to a halt
in the still forest at the same time and William squatted down and examined a
crushed fern frond. He looked toward the other direction and noted that there
was also partial foot print in the wet mud, indicating that the trail led in
two different directions.
"He's splitting us up." Declared William, the tone of his voice sounded
almost pride-like.
Sal pulled out his water bottle and took a drink. Replacing the bottle
he asked, "Which way do you want?"
William stood up, his knees creaking as he rose. "I'll go left and follow
the crushed fern. You take the footprint."
"Damn." Sal said.
"What?" Asked William.
"I was just thinking about Joel and Austin. I knew this punk was going to
give us a good run for our money. Too bad those two ended up drawing
Mansfield, in his condition, he won't be able to put up very much of a fight."
William took a drink from his own water bottle, "Yeah," he agreed. "We
definitely got the better of the two. Mind you it's not Joel and Austin's
fault that Gant can't keep ...er..." He coughed lightly, "...keep his hands
off of the merchandise." William wiped his sweaty brow with a black linen
handkerchief.
Sal looked at his partner. "Yes, well, be that as it may. I don't know
how they will manage to get a decent challenge out of tracking down a man who
is already half dead."
William laughed. "Oh, don't worry for them. They will make it
interesting somehow. Just like you did the last time when you ended up drawing
the dud."
Sal joined his partner in laughter. "Same bet as before?" he asked
jovially.
"Sure" said William. "The first one to bag the target, gets to pick the
restaurant. Lunch is on the loser..."
Both men continued to chuckle as one went left and the other right.
Neither man even imagining that there would be any other out come, other then
the one that ended with Mac, belly up and dead.
Mac pulled off his white T-shirt, his skin instantly reacted and raised an
army of tiny goose bumps. He stuffed the shirt into one end of the log that he
was standing on and then briskly rubbed his hands up and down his arms trying
warm himself. Mac was tempted to put his shirt back on to help fight the chill
in the air, but he just had to grin and bear it for a while; white could be
seen from a long way off in the forest. Mac knew he was better off with
wearing his natural skin tone while hiding up in the large maple tree. And
just to be on the safe side, he reached into the stream and grabbed up a hand
full of mud to enhance his natural camouflage with. He rubbed the icy muck up
and down his arms and then made a few quick strokes under his eyes and over his
cheekbones and added one stripe over the length of his nose. Mac looked down
at his bare chest, he smiled at the dark thatch of chest hair that covered him.
Glad for once for the thick growth. The dark hair meant that at least he did
not have to rub the gritty mud over his chest.
Mac rinsed his hands in the running water then ran them down the back of
his pants, hastily drying them. He took one final look around the quiet forest
before nimbly climbing up the large overgrown tree. He sat in the tree as
unmoving as a spider lying in wait for a fly. Mac controlled his breathing, he
did not want the clouds of visible air that his warm breath made when it
greeted the bracing air of the outdoors, to be seen. The hunters may have been
smart, but Mac knew he was smarter because his instincts for survival were
stronger than theirs. They were continually being sharpened, starting from the
time he was a small boy and alone on the streets of Hong Kong.
The judges were overconfident, they believed they were invincible, and
that, was their Achilles heal. It would surely lead to their downfall.
As Mac patiently waited, his thoughts drifted to Victor. He wondered if
his lover was awake yet or if —knowing Victor like he did—the agent had
forced the other two judges into cracking him over the head again; maybe even
killing him before he could even get out of the cage. Mac silently hoped that
his partner was all right.
He has to be.
Mac certainly could be of no help him from the bush.
Holding the small knife ready in one hand and the home made spear in the
other, Mac smiled into the large leaves at the images of him and Victor, a twig
snapped, pulling him out of his vivid daydream. Mac pushed Victor aside and
steeled his body motionless. He looked down and saw that Judge William was
below him one side of the fallen log, hunched over and examining a broken salal
plant.
The sturdy green plant had been deliberately stepped on by the cunning
agent.
Feeling very much like 'Rambo', Mac slowly lifted the spear, took aim and
threw it with all of his might. He had intended on only distracting the judge
with the spear, planning on using the element of surprise as his real weapon in
over powering the armed, older man.
But to Mac's complete astonishment, the home made device actually
penetrated the judges flesh. The older man screamed out at the excruciating
pain, then immediately passed out.
Mac scrambled down the tree and crouched next to the judge, snorting in
disgust at the unconscious man.
He can dish it out, but can't take it Figures!
Mac had no sympathy for one fourth of the quad of deranged law men.
He none too carefully extricated the spear from the judge's high; who
shuddered, but did not wake up. Mac grabbed the small knapsack the judge was
wearing and yanked it off of the man. Rummaging around, he pulled out various
items he thought would be useful to him and his quest. He came across a small
first aid kit, Mac would rather have let the man die, but he was not a
cold-blooded killer. So using the knife, Mac cut open the hole in the pants
and examined the judge's wound. Mac determined that the judge was not hurt too
badly. The wound was only oozing out blood slowly. Mac's lucky shot had not
hit anything crucial.
"Don't worry,.." Mac said to the unconscious man as he poured disinfectant
over the puncture "You'll live."
Mac finished the last of the bandaging then rolled the judge over, with the
rope that he had found in the knapsack, he bound the still unconscious man hand
and foot using knots that could not be untied. The ropes would have to be cut
off in order to be removed. Mac dragged the man to a small rock cave that he
had found in the vicinity, rolled him into the darkness and then sealed the man
in by covering the entrance with fallen boughs he had gathered before hand.
Pulling out an energy bar that he had scrounged, Mac tore the wrapper off and
wolfed it down. He ate the bland bar not because he was hungry but because he
would need the charbohydrates to keep his body warm.
Before he had 'disposed' of the judge, Mac had taken the man's outer,
light weight hunting jacket and his side arm. Mac put the jacket on and double
checked the clip in the 9mm automatic. Emptying the contents out of a large
zip lock bag, he put the gun inside the thick plastic then sealed and pocketed
the whole neat little package. He walked along the log to the stream, and then
gingerly stepped off of it into the ice cold water. The agent blew out his
breath and his entire body gave an involuntary shudder in defense against the
biting chill of the swift running stream. Mac noiselessly sank to his belly
and let the current carry him downstream, toward the lodge.
The jacket that Mac had pilfered off of the fallen judge did little in way
of keeping him warm from the streams' cold grasp. He floated with the current
for about ten minutes before he was just too cold to go on. Looking ahead and
to his left, Mac spied a large depression in the side of the six-foot bank; he
swam toward the spot. It would be the perfect hiding place for him while he
tried to warm up and think through the second half of his hazardous scheme.
Mac stood up to examine the 'cave' and discovered it was little more
than a hole in the wall of the bank, nevertheless, he pushed aside the hanging
grass and tree roots and sat down inside of the small hollow. The cramped
space would heat up easier than a large area any ways. Mac let the long grass
and roots that he had been holding open go, they fell back together and created
a thick curtain which concealed his hiding spot nicely. He rubbed his hands
through his hair and pushed the water through it. His hands were numb from the
cold and as he was busy blowing on them to warm them up, Mac heard a twig snap.
Freezing mid-blow, Mac listened intently.
No way. He can't be up there.
Mac continued to wait and listen. He heard more undergrowth crunching
followed by the sound of rustling of clothes. Everything was slightly muffled
because of the noise of the stream, but Mac could still hear the faint sounds.
After a few seconds, the cold agent stared disbelieving through the fringe of
greenery at a large, arcing stream of urine. The judge was standing on the
bank directly above him, and pissing into the water. Mac could not believe his
good luck.
The gods are with me today!
Carefully he reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out the 9mm, bag and
all. Breaking the seal of the zip-lock, Mac reached in and removed the gun.
He pushed off the safety and waiting for the stream of urine to end.
Once it did, Mac counted off 10 silent seconds before he parted the
foliage that was concealing him and cautiously made his way out of his tiny
hiding place. He slowly rose to his feet and hoped that the trickling stream
would cover any small noise that he might make.
Mac took a deep breath, then stood up and peeked over the edge of the
bank. Judge Sal was standing with his back to the stream and was taking a sip
of water. The agent smiled, and then without giving a warning, shot the
unaware man in each calf. Careful to aim so that his bullets would pass
through the meat of the muscle cleanly. He did not want to hit anything vital,
like an artery. Mac only wanted to impede the older man; the judge had to live
so that he would have to face trial and ultimately imprisonment. All of the
judges would get back a small dose of their own bad medicine.
The judge immediately fell to the ground. He writhed all around in pain
and accompanied the frantic movements with screams.
Mac pulled himself up from the water to the ground and went over to
where the judge was. First he pulled another length of rope from his pocket
and trussed the judge in the same manner as he had done to the other. Then he
hastily patched up the gunshot wounds. Mac dragged the man to the base of a
large birch tree and left him there. Squatting down he removed the man's side
arm and knapsack.
"You're lucky it was me who shot you. Victor would have made sure he killed
you." Mac said simply as he pulled a Polaroid camera out of the knapsack.
Standing up Mac ignore the judges' useless threats and nasty epithets and took
a picture of the bound man.
"Evidence." Mac said simply. All of a sudden, he heard his name being
called out. Snapping his head toward the sound, Mac grabbed up both guns—one
in each hand—and hunkered down next to the injured man. The call came again,
and this time Mac recognized the voice; it belonged to Murphy. He stood up
smiling.
"Over here" He called out in reply.
Seconds after he had called out a response, Mac was greeted by both
Murphy and Camier`, in black commando gear. Mac could not help but smile at
the sight of the cleaners in head to toe black.
His smile quickly faded and he asked Murphy, "How's Victor?" As soon as
the men were within ear shot. Mac was very worried about his partner.
Murphy looked up into Mac's eyes and replied honestly, "I don't know. He
was lining the bottom of a bear cage last I saw him."
"SHIT!" was all Mac said in return.
"Come on Ramsey." Mr. Camier` piped in optimistically, "The sooner we get
back to the lodge, the sooner you'll find out about Mansfield."
On the hike back to the lodge, Murphy filled Mac in on how LiAnne and the
Director figured out that the agents were missing, and how they traced them to
the remote cabin. Mac nodded his head in all the right places, but he was only
half listening to the cleaners, Mac could not stop thinking of Victor and the
condition he had been in the last time he had seen him.
As soon as Mac saw some of the lodge's wooden logs peeking through the
thick forest, he began running for the building. Murphy and Camier` just let
him go. They needed to find the head of the armed crew to tell him the where
abouts of the other two judges any ways. All four men would be handed over to
the RCMP, who would then promptly arrest and charge all of the middle-aged men.
Mac burst in through the front door. "Victor" he shouted as he darted
his eyes from the empty bear cage to all around the room. His anxious gaze
rested on LiAnne, who was smiling at him and then the Director, who was
frowning at him.
The women were standing shoulder to shoulder and from behind them, Mac
heard a weak, "I'm here Mac. I'm okay."
The ladies parted. In back of them, on a wooden stool, sat Victor. The
slightly dazed agent was haloed from behind by a large, late afternoon sunbeam
that was shining down through the sky light directly above him.
Mac had never seen an angel before, but he thought that he was gazing upon
one now.
Victor smiled as best as he could manage. He looked up at his partner;
eyes shining in the afternoon sun. His pupils were large with dilation and his
head ached and he was holding a cotton compress over the cut on his head.
Victor's deep green eyes were surrounded by dark purple and he was bruised on
both cheek bones. The bite mark left by the inmate at Kensington stood out at
the corner of his mouth and partially ringed his slightly swollen lips.
But none of it mattered to Mac. All he could think of was how beautiful a
sight his partner—his lover was. He ignored LiAnne and her greeting. Not
caring who was in the room or who was watching them, Mac walked right up to
Victor and pulled the seated man to himself and hugged him fiercely.
He pushed Victor's head against his belly and held the agent tightly.
Mac leaned down and kissed the crown of short, bristly hair at the top of
Victor's head.
"God I'm so glad to see you Victor" he said huskily, "I thought that you
were dead."
Victor, still holding the compress, brought his free arm around and
circled Mac's waist with it.
"Me too, Mac. I heard the gunshots and I thought that they had got you."
Mac looked up at the Director, who was smiling at him, then at LiAnne who
was now frowning at him. No one else was in the room with them.
The director had sent everyone else away with a simple sweep of her hand.
"Well it looks like we solved this one boys." She said.
"Yeah. Only you left the rescue a little bit late didn't you?" Replied Mac
angrily.
"Yes." Was all the Director said. She signaled to LiAnne, "I guess I
did." Then both women walked out together.
Mac, still clutching Victor to body, watched them leave and once the door
closed behind them, he squatted down and held onto either side of his partner's
face lightly. He looked up, and locking eyes with his lover, he whispered
hoarsely, "I love you Victor. Watching those cons and the judges hurt you
that way..." Choked with emotion, Mac's voice faltered. "...It was more than
I could take. I hope I never have to see that again." Before he could give
Victor time to reply, Mac gently put his lips to his partners and pressed him
into a slow, deep kiss.
Part Nineteen
Two months after Kensington
Mac left Victor's kitchen and went into the living room. In one hand he
held two long neck bottles of beer and in the other he had a bowl of popcorn.
He put the food and drink down on the coffee table then crossed over to the
television set and turned off the 'Dirty Harry' movie that he and Victor had
been watching.
When Victor mentioned needing some 'munchies, Mac had eagerly volunteered to
make some popcorn. He had untangled his long legs from Victor's shorter ones
and immediately went straight for the kitchen. When it came to popcorn, Mac
preferred the 'old-fashioned way' of cooking it; meaning he still used a heavy
pot and some oil on top of the stove.
The reason Mac had offered to make the snack in the first place was
because he didn't have the heart to tell Victor that he never really got into
Clint Eastwood or 'Dirty Harry'. Bruce Lee movies were more to his taste,
which he knew, Victor did not care for at all.
Pulling over a plain wooden chair from the dining room, Mac placed it
across the coffee table from Victor and sat down. He smiled at his lover, who
was presently sleeping peacefully on his back with his arms folded across his
chest as if to ward off the bad dreams, thus protecting himself in his slumber.
The apartment was dark, all the lights were out except for a small, 30
watt bulb that lit up one of Victor's paintings. The picture light gave off
just enough of a glow to allow Mac to see Victor. As he sat, he stared at his
lover, studying his profile. There was still some light bruising visible on
Victor's temple; left overs from one of the judges cracking him in the side of
the head with the butt of a rifle.
In addition to the bruise, there several small scars whose scabs had long
since healed over and fallen away. Victor's outer shell was healing well
enough, unfortunately the same could not be said for his inner self. Mac was
very aware that the visions and dreams still popped up now and again to haunt
Victor; painting vivid pictures in his psyche of his time spent as the victim;
not the savior.
Victor was, at least, on this particular night, seemingly in state of rest.
He appeared serene, and free from the nightmares that had plagued him off and
on for the last couple of months. Even after they had left the lodge and the
forest behind them, far to the north.
Mac leaned forward and grabbed one of the beers he had brought from the
kitchen. He put the bottle to his lips and took a deep swallow of the ice cold
liquid. Leaning back so that his chair was balancing on two legs, he used his
bare left foot as an anchor by resting it against the coffee table.
He continued to watch his lover of just two short months as he slept; Victor
unaware of the audience. Sitting in the dark, Mac took another drink of his
beer and mused about how Victor had finally gotten Matt out of prison.
Victor, determined to see justice done, had cajoled and argued until the
Director, tired of his nagging, finally relented. She pulled every string she
had and called in every petty favor, until two weeks later, she finally got
confirmation that Matt would be released early from his sentence. Once
released, Matt had spent the better part of the month in a civilian hospital
before being released into the care of his family.
The Director had put up with Victor's nagging only because it was her way of
apologizing, without actually having to say the words, for all of the bad
things that happened to him while inside. Things, she was partially
responsible for, especially the whole fiasco with Walker and his crazy
thoughts.
Mac belched lightly and let himself be taken back to the day when Matt
was released from Prison.
The day that Matt Vandenburg was finally to be released from the walls of
Kensington, Victor had made sure that he was there to see it. Matt was to be
brought out of the prison's own private infirmary and put directly into a
waiting ambulance, for immediate transfer to Sacred Mercy Hospital. There was
an ambulance waiting for him on the inside; Victor and Matt's young wife
Mary-Anne, were waiting for him on the outside. Just past the concrete and
steel main gates.
Mary-Anne stood next to Victor, silent, anxious for her and her small
daughter, Anna, to join her husband on the ambulance ride to his new
accommodations. Victor held the couple's toddler in his arms, his emotions
kept safely hidden away, deep inside of himself; unaccessible to all.
Mac was waiting too, but he was a short distance away from then, sitting
in his car. He watched, his face expressionless, from the warmth of the BMW.
while his partner stood resolutely in the cold drizzle, holding a tiny umbrella
over Matt's little girl. Mary-Anne stood under her own umbrella. Anna,
pleased to be outside, was dressed for the weather, she had on a shiny pink
rain slicker, hat and coat. Victor however, wore nothing but a kangaroo coat
to protect him from the elements; letting himself become drenched, still trying
to punish himself for Matts situation.
Finally, after waiting for over a half and hour, the big gates moaned and
then began to slowly creak open, eventually letting the emergency vehicle
carrying Victor's young friend to freedom through them. The ambulance stopped
next to the trio and the double doors at the back opened up and waited.
Mary-Anne took Anna from Victor's warm arms and standing on her toes she kissed
him on his cheek. Mac could see that she had said something to him after the
kiss, but what, he couldn't say for sure. Victor never mentioned what it was.
However, Mac was sure he had seen her mouth the word 'angel' to him.
The girls disappeared into the back of the vehicle, the doors slammed shut
and without any ceremony, pulled away.
Victor had stood in the rain long after the ambulance had disappeared. So
long in fact that Mac, who had been trying to give his partner some space,
finally got out of the car and walked over to his lover. Victor turned his
head at the sound of the door slamming, then quickly turned his back to Mac and
hastily knuckled away the tears that had been falling with the rain.
Not fooled in the least by Victor, Mac simply stood behind him and wrapped
his arms around his waist. Mac pulled Victor in tight to his still warm body;
back against chest. Victor patted the backs of Mac's hands but otherwise he
did not move or speak.
"He's safe now." Mac said softly.
"I know." Came the reply.
"You saved his life and got him sprung early from prison. There's
nothing more you can do. The rest is up to him you know."
"I know." Parroted Victor again.
"Then why are you so sad?"
"I don't know. Maybe because I look at Matt and see that in my whole
career as a cop, he was the only success. One person out of hundreds."
Victor squinted out into the distance, his eyes on the empty prison yard. He
focused in on the bench that he and Matt had first sat on, all those weeks ago.
"My career as a cop was a failure. I'm a failure and it hurts to know that."
Mac let the silence sit with them for a bit. After a while, he kissed
Victor's cheek—and the agent smiled—but Mac couldn't see it. He rested his
chin over Victor's shoulder and tried to pick out what it was exactly, that
Victor was looking at. "It's time to let it go Victor. It don't mean nothin'
no more. Besides, Matt wouldn't think you're a failure. Would he?" Mac
kissed Victor's cheek again.
"No..." said Victor huskily, "I suppose not." He took in a deep breath of
the damp air and blew it out, watching the small clouds he had made when his
warm breath hit the cool air... "Come on Mac, lets go home." Victor broke out
of Mac's loving embrace and started to the car , his melancholy un-assuaged...
Mac put the empty beer bottle down and picked up the other one up beside
it on the table. The popcorn long since forgotten. He leaned back in his
chair again and turned his thoughts to the corrupt judges... Four men who had
thought that they were untouchable and above the law...
Seven weeks after Kensington
Three weeks after being rescued and two weeks after Victor had allowed Mac
back into his bed, The two agents had gotten an early morning call from
Director, at Victor's apartment. Both of them were instruct to 'Get your asses
down here. Pronto.'
The men reluctantly rose from their warm bed and slowly made themselves
ready to go to work on a Saturday.
When they arrived, LiAnne was already there, sitting in the centre chair,
stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the boy's new found relationship. Victor
and Mac sat, without argument, in their usual places. And shortly after that
The Director deigned to make her entrance. She stormed to the long table and
dropped four thick, beige file folders in front of the agents. She was angry
and frustrated, all three could see that easily enough.
"Austin Mayne, Joel Biggart, Sal Martin and William Laslo. All four, as of
yesterday, charged with numerous counts of first degree murder and two counts
of conspiracy to commit first degree murder." The Directors eyes briefly
flicked to Mac and Victor as she said, "The crown counsel has also tossed in
several counts of 'abuse of human remains.'" She began to pace back and forth
in front of the long table.
"The photographic and forensic evidence alone had all four dead to rights."
She stopped pacing and went over to her desk, picked up a small remote and
pressed a button. She clicked through several slides, which showed the
incriminating evidence against the judges.
"All four of the 'wise' men had foolishly photographed the dead men before and
after their..." The Director cleared her throat, "...their untimely demises.
They also video taped several of the hunting expeditions and then showed their
'home movies' to other members involved in the racket. The block of judges
were going down for this, no doubt about it."
Mac interrupted the Director and asked, "What the hell do you mean by were
going down?"
Plainly irritated, The Director turned to all three agents and said, "This
morning all four men were found dead in their cells." She clicked the remote
again, and the large screen divided into four parts, a picture of each man
hanging shown. "Each man was hanged by his own hand using the sheets from their
cots. It appears, they had a suicide pact with each other."
LiAnne stared at the gruesome photo's indifferently, and said just as
dispassionately, "Well, at least they saved the taxpayers the expense of a
trial."
Victor swept his eyes over the four men, his gaze rested on the judge who had
hit him in the head, splitting it open. Unconsciously he fingered the scab at
his temple.
"You have anything to say, Victor?" the Director asked him.
Victor looked up at his boss, "Yeah. Good riddance?" Covering his emotions
over the men who tried to murder both he and Mac, and their ultimate deaths,
Victor dropped his hands into his lap and examined the dry skin on the cuticle
of his thumb.
"Mac? You're unusually quiet." Commented LiAnne, looking to her right directly
at him.
Mac didn't turn his attention to LiAnne, instead he just kept studying
Victor's profile. After a seconds, unable to read his lover's expression, he
turned his gaze toward his boss, "I wanted to watch those bastards go down for
this..." he shrugged his shoulders, "...but at least this way they can't get
off with an insanity plea or some other bogus way, like on a technicality."
Disgusted with the injustice, he stood up and started to walk away, Victor
stood too and started to follow.
The Director called them both back. "Hold on you two." The men turned
around in unison, "I'm not done yet."
They walked back to their seats and sat, waiting expectantly for the
'other shoe to drop'.
She said once they had sat down again, "Thomas Walker's..." Victor's
unconscious flinch at the name did not go unnoticed he her, "...body was found
early this morning."
Clicking the remote, a crime scene photo of the burial site appeared, "In a
shallow grave about five kilometers north of Kensington Pen. He was
discovered by our own people."
The crime scene photo disappeared and another one appeared on the screen.
She went through several slides of the scene and the evidence as she talked,
"Even though he was badly decomposed, there was enough left of him to determine
that is tongue had been cut out. And going by the prelim exam from our 'body
snatchers' at the site, his throat had been cut too."
She stopped the slide on a face shot of Walker, his bright blue eyes and
light blond hair made him look boyishly handsome; almost naive. Victor,
however knew differently.
"Thomas Walker was a mentally disturbed, obsessed man, whose inability to
tell the difference between reality and fantasy had ultimately, been the cause
to his down fall." She clicked to another shot of Walker in his prison
uniform, striking a formal pose, most likely taken at the time he was hired at
Kensington.
Victor blanched at the sight of Walker. All of the horrible memories of
Kensington and what he had done—the rape, bartering his own body for
information—came flooding back to him. He was nauseous at the thought.
"I want the three of you to meet Dobrinski at Walker's apartment." She
looked at her watch and said, "He should be there in about an hour and a half.
Toss the place and remove anything that might connect Walker with the Agency.
The local cops won't be there to check it out until late this afternoon." None
of the agents asked the Director how she knew the cops wouldn't show up until
after they had done their bit. They sat silently in their chairs waiting for
more. Finally the Director clicked her tongue and said, "Now, you can go now."
The trio rose and as they were leaving the Director handed the address to the
apartment to LiAnne, as she passed by.
Having just finished his second beer, Mac stood up and stretched then went back
into the kitchen for another.
Victor was still sleeping peacefully, as if having Mac watching over him could
somehow assuage his dreams.
Familiar with Victor's apartment, he opened the fridge door and pulled out
another bottle, after he had shut it, his eyes rested on a photo stuck to the
door of the fridge. He had forgotten that he and Victor had even posed for the
picture. It was one LiAnne had taken of her male partners just after they had
completed a difficult mission. It was by Mac and Victor's cooperation with
each other that they had been able to rescue LiAnne and an entire Biotech lab
from a bomb. A bomb that had been planted by a terrorist group whose freakish
leader had a death wish.
The picture marked the first time that the guys had to work together,
without her to buffer their differences. A single photograph showing them
smiling with their arm around each others shoulder, happy together; and taken
long before they had even imagined they could be friends, let alone intimate
lovers.
A solitary picture, that, Victor had at some point gone to LiAnne for.
Victor had taken the time to put it in a small magnetic frame in order to
display it openly on his white fridge door. Looking at the photo made Mac
wonder; why, if they had only just recently fallen in love, then how come
Victor had a photograph of just the two of them on his fridge, when there was
nothing else taking up space there? A photograph that had been taken over a
year ago, well before the events at Kensington...
LiAnne deftly picked the lock to Walker's apartment. She twisted the knob
and gave a light push to open the door. The whole B&E operation took all of
two minutes, maybe even less. She stood up, dusted off her knees and went into
the small bachelors' suite. When she reached to the centre of the room, she
stopped in her tracks and stared around the place.
She had been followed in by Mac, who actually bumped into her statue like
form. He had started to say something to her before cutting of his own words
when he saw the decor of Walkers Apartment.
Victor, the last to enter, carefully closed the door behind himself.
Dobrinski had phoned LiAnne earlier to say that he 'was stuck in traffic' and
that the team should go ahead without him. He would see them later at the
agency. Victor walked into the room and stood beside his partners, frozen at
the sight of Walkers choice of 'wall paper'.
"OH... MY... GOD...!" Exclaimed LiAnne.
"HOLY SHIT." Was all Mac could think of to say.
Victor finished by saying, "I think I'm going to be sick!" Then he promptly
fulfilled his prediction by running to the small bathroom to his left and
vomiting the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
Both Mac and LiAnne left Victor alone with his own devices while he was in the
bathroom. He wouldn't want 'company' in there with him any ways. Instead,
the two of them stood together, speechlessly absorbing just how deep Thomas
Walker mental illness was. He was much more sicker than anyone even realized.
Mac pulled a small state of the art video camera from the inside of a large
black canvass bag and started filming. While LiAnne finally shouted to Victor,
asking him if he was all right.
When Victor finally emerged from the bathroom he was wiping his mouth with the
hem of his T-shirt. Leaving it untucked and answered flatly, "Yeah, I'm okay.
Lets get to work."
Mac was busy filming the walls of the tidy, but musty apartment. And on those
walls were hundreds and hundreds of pictures of Victor. Walker had pasted up
photos' of Victor every where; all of them appearing to have been taken on the
sly.
"I don't remember ever seeing a camera." Commented Victor as he started to
pull down the photographs. Some were clear and others were slightly grainy and
some even looked like they had been video grabs from the prisons' cameras. He
shoved his handful of photos' into the canvass bag.
"Hey Mac." LiAnne called. "Come and get a shot of this." She was holding
up a picture of both Victor and Mac that had been taken in the prison yard.
Walker had used a red felt pen and drawn a circle with a line through it around
Mac's head.
Mac focused the camera in on the picture and then commented dryly, "Well, I
guess we know what he 'really' thought of me. " Every photo that contained
Mac had the same markings over his head and face.
"Guess so." Agreed LiAnne as she dropped another stack of pictures into the
bag.
LiAnne went over to where Walker's bed was. She examined the
devotional that he had erected to Victor's image on the wall above the head of
his bed and to the right, on the wall that was next to his bed. She leaned in
and looked a little closer at the 8 x 10's then, and blushing, she cleared her
throat and called Victor over.
"Ah... Vic. I think you should handle the 'shrine'." LiAnne walked away
and began tearing down the pictures where Victor had been working.
Victor stood and stared at the wall space that Walker had devoted to his
nude image. Walker had the photo's arranged in just such a way that
Victor was reminded of his sister's walls and the space she had dedicated to
her teen beat 'pin-up boys'. The guard had done much the same thing with him,
except that the posters Alice had put up weren't of naked men.
Walker had somehow managed to take pictures of him while he was showering,
changing and even some of him sleeping. There were some photos' of him taken
when he was sleeping where he had on underwear. It seemed that Walker was
just as fond as those shots as any other.
Mac went to Victor and said from behind him, "God. You look just like a
Calvin Klein underwear model." He was staring at one particular image, taken
as Victor slept. In it, his blanket thrown off and his body was stretched
taught with his arms above his head, crossed at the wrists. Mac thought that
Victor had never looked more beautiful. His features, softened by slumber,
made him look ten years younger.
"Yeah, well..." Victor tore down one of several copies of that
particular shot, "I wish I had the money one of those boys make." He walked
away and stuffed some more of the embarrassing photos' into the bag.
Mac looked over his shoulder, made sure no one was paying attention to
him, and then reached out and quickly tore down another copy of the 'sleeping
in underwear' photo. He folded it up and shoved it into jacket pocket.
Lots' of the photo's were on real photographic paper, but most, like the one
Mac had just pilfered, were simple scan copies on paper. He shut off the
camera and after putting it away, he started searching Walkers drawers, leaving
Victor and LiAnne to finish stripping the walls.
In Walkers underwear and sock drawer, Mac came across a video in a case
marked, 'Vic and Gant.' Knowing he should mention it, but not quite
able to make himself, Mac stuck the tape in a large pocket on the inside his
jacket. He quickly shut the drawer and went on to the next one. Not daring to
say anything about his find.
After about another 40 minutes, the team had completely 'cleaned' out the
bachelors' suite. They wore latex gloves, so the local police coming across
one of their finger prints was an highly unlikely scenario.
Mac led the way out, followed by Victor, leaving LiAnne to lock
up.
Back at the agency, the three of them turned over all the papers and
photo's they had found along with two diary's. Victor was relieved to see that
the Director handed over all of the pictures of him to Dobrinski, whom he knew
could be counted on to destroy them and not pass them around for the rest of
the agency employees to see.
The agents were dismissed after that. LiAnne walked out ahead of the men
and had already disappeared from the deserted halls by the time Victor and Mac
got out of the doors themselves.
About half way down the hall, Mac turned to Victor and said, "Oh, I still
have one of the video's of the apartment, he pulled out a small blank tape, "I
better turn it in."
"You want me to wait?" Asked Victor.
Mac smiled at his lover, "No, why don't you head home? You don't mind if I
just hang by myself tonight? I got some stuff I want to do."
Victor looked at Mac surprised. Lately, they had been spending all of
their spare time together. Then he smiled, actually, he kind of wanted to be
alone too. He had a few mundane chores to do like grocery shopping and
cleaning up his place any ways. "No, I don't mind. There's some stuff I want
to catch up on too."
He looked left and then right, and when he was sure no one was watching, he
planted a quick kiss on Mac's lips. "I'll call you tomorrow afternoon.
Ok?"
"Okay. Talk to you then." Mac waited until Victor was out of sight before
going back into the office. Luckily the Director and Dobrinski were still
looking through the papers. Mac cleared his throat. And the two of them
looked up.
"Yes Mac." Said the Director.
"I have a couple of questions for you regarding the investigation."
"Ohhhh, such an astute pupil..." The director cooed, "What are they?"
Mac licked his lips and approached the table. "I want to know what's
going to happen to Gant. Is he going to be charged for his part in the
scheme?" The look on both Dobrinski's and the Director's face told him that he
was not going to like the answer.
The Director said to Dobrinski without looking at him. "Take this stuff
upstairs. I'll meet you there in a few minutes." Dobrinski did as he was told
and gathered up everything before he left the room.
Once he was gone, The Director said to Mac, "We couldn't find any proof
linking Gant to the Judges and the hunting humans racket." She held up her
hand to stop Mac from speaking. "I know, I know. You and Victor are right
when you say he's dirty, but without the proof, the courts can do nothing. His
computer came up empty and there's no paper trail from him to the judges. The
four inmates you say were helping him are denying everything. There's just no
solid proof Mac."
Mac looked sourly at the Director. "I know he's guilty goddammitt!"
"So do I. But my hands are tied on this. Now excuse me, I have to get to
work." She turned around and walked away from Mac without saying
goodbye.
Once back at his apartment, Mac pulled the video he had found at Walker's
place and plugged it into his VCR, whatever he thought would be on it, Mac was
not prepared for what he was about to witness.
He sat and with the remote in one hand and the glass of wine in other and
started the tape. Mac had no idea how far he would go to bring justice to the
man who had served Victor with so much injustice. Victor had told Mac about
Gant's vicious depravity. He had heard the stories, and now, Mac would have
the graphic images to go with the sad words.
He fast forwarded through the snow until he came to the opening scene
showing Victor and Walker alone in the strip search room.
Mac saw Walker shove an exhausted looking Victor down to the floor, then
pull his baton and thoroughly beat Victor with it. He winced as every blow
struck home, and his heart broke when Victor finally gave an anguished cry
declaring that he wasn't hiding anything. Walker pushed Victor around some
more and then finally pinned him against the wall.
"Now I can see why Gant would want to examine you himself" Walker had said
suggestively.
Victor had answered back that he didn't understand what Walker meant.
And Mac listened intently as the psychotic guard took great pleasure in
explaining to Victor, the lewd acts that Gant was going to perform upon his
person. Mac swallowed his wine and poured another glass full, barely taking
his eyes off of the tube. He watched, rapt, as Gant entered the room and after
dismissing Walker, proceeded to carry on with the strip search.
Seeing Victor tethered to the wall in the manner that he was, made Mac angry.
And he watched horrified, when, during the search, the CO. cut Victors chest
open with a small knife. Gant followed up the physical torture with some
thorough mind raping.
Naked, restrained and vulnerable, Mac could clearly see the uncertainly in
his partners face, he wished that he could have been there with him in that
room to comfort him through spare the humiliation.
Gant had carried on his mind games throughout the search. Watching Gant up
to so far had been nauseating for Mac, but he was still unable to pull his eyes
away from the tape.
Suddenly, the search over with, events turned quickly and Mac sat
completely stunned, and watched the bloody, brutal rape of his lover. Gant's
brutality had no bounds and Victor's screams only amplified that fact.
And then afterwards, Gant's cold and indifference attitude toward the man he
had violated.
It was at that point that Mac finally turned off the t.v. He covered his
mouth with his hand as his whole body shook with fear and with anger. From
the beginning to end, Gant and Walker had succeeded in dehumanizing Victor in
that cold, sterile room. Mac was too enraged to even shed a tear for his
lover. All he could think of was how he was going to pay Gant back for the
acts of savagery he had perpetrated against the helpless Victor.
Mac sat in his dark apartment, and soon after, the rage was replaced with
an incredibly heavy sadness. And it was at that moment, that Mac finally
understood Victor's behavior inside and outside of Kensington. Now, he could
truly fathom why during all of their love making sessions, Victor had never
once allowed Mac to have intercourse with him. They had done other things,
lots' of times and Victor had even made love to Mac on several occasions. But
Mac had never been permitted to make love to Victor back in the same manner.
Mac didn't it mind too much, the other stuff they did to each other more than
made up for it.
Now however, Mac could finally see the full scope of just how hard it was
for Victor to have put himself 'out there' by trying to cozy up to that loon
Walker in order to obtain the information they needed. Mac knew that Victor
personally found Walker absolutely repugnant.
To be able to do what he had done to get inside Gant's office, took guts,
and plenty of them. That night Mac went to bed with a plan to pay Gant back in
Victor's name. He finally fell asleep, with thoughts of Victor, and a new
found respect for just how strong he really was.
Mac stood outside in the fresh air on Victor's balcony. He stared down at
the passing traffic, listening as the odd horn honk would waft slowly up to his
ears. Mac looked over his shoulder at Victor, who was now curled up on his
side with his back facing toward him.
Mac watched Victor's side slowly rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He
smiled at his lover, whose sleep was still and unencumbered, or so it seemed.
Turning away, back to the view of the city, Mac recalled how only few days
ago he had set it up so that Gant would pay for not only his trespasses against
Victor, but also for all the other young men who had died because Gant had sold
them to the crazy judges...
The
following morning, after spending a restless night with dreams of a screaming
and in pain Victor Mac rose from bed with a plausible, fully hatched plan. He
started in right away on implementing it. First he went to his bank and
withdrew $4000.00 cash, all in 20's.
Then he spent the rest of the morning driving up to Kensington penitentiary.
Mac knew that Gant did not work on weekends, so he was not too worried about
being seen by the guard. He signed in the visitors' log as Big Eddies cousin
'Lee-Roy Mathis'.
Big Eddie did have a cousin named Lee-Roy, Mac was careful to have his facts
straight. However, the people at Kensington did not know what the man really
looked like.
Big Eddie appeared in the common visitors room and sat down at a table and
waiting for the cousin he hadn't seen in years to show up.
Mac approached and quickly slid into the seat across from the felon. The
large convict groaned and attempted to stand up.
But Mac stopped him. "Listen." He said, his eyes flicking over some fresh
scars on the convict's face. They were left by Victor after Big Eddie had very
nearly killed his young friend
Matt.
Eddie made a great show of sighing heavily before sitting back down. As if
having a visitor was bothersome to him. But the truth was that Eddie hadn't
had a visitor in over six months and he was curious as to why Mac Jones would
come to see him.
He had heard the rumors, that both Smith and Jones were cops, which would
explain their midnight disappearance. He looked at Mac, trying effect both
boredom and indifference. "I though you were a cop." He finally said.
"No. Im not a cop." Mac replied truthfully.
"How come your and your pod mate—Victor..." Eddie said the name Victor
with venom, "...disappeared then?"
"We were transferred to the holding pens at the court house for a
re-trial. Then as luck would have it, the judge threw the case out at the last
minute on the count of the real stick up men were caught. We were actually
innocent... that time." Mac could charm a snake out of its skin when he wanted
to.
Eddie, who had never been accused of being a genius, bought Mac's unlikely
story. He smiled, then frowned and said suspiciously, "How come you came to
see me? Your 'friend' ambushed me over that bitch Vandenberg." Eddie suddenly
stood up to leave, distrustful again.
Mac stopped him from going by saying, "Hey that's all water under the
bridge. Right?"
The large convict was still standing, he was unsure of what to do. So Mac
made the decision for him.
"I don't want to talk about those two anyway. I'm here to offer you a
job. " He said in a half whisper. When he still saw indecision on Eddie's
ugly mug, Mac added in hastily, "It pays well."
Eddie sighed heavily again and then sat down. "How much and what's the
job?" He asked.
Mac smiled. Somehow he just knew that money would win out over pride and
a bruised ego. He leaned forward and said quietly to Eddie, who also had
leaned forward, "$3000.00 to mess Gant up. Real good." He sat up straight.
Big Eddie grinned evilly, he liked the idea of taking on a hack.
Especially Gant, whom he had no love for. "Five thousand, and he's got two
broken legs and arms."
Mac shuddered inwardly at the diabolical smile Eddie had. The convict
might not have been a genius, but he was no moron either; when it came to
business that was. Mac reached inside his coat and pulled out a hardcover
book. The title read, 'How to get rich quick. The 10 best money making
schemes.'
The book had passed through a metal detector, a drug sniffing dog and a
dog whose speciality was explosives. As far as the prison was concerned the
book was a clean item, therefore, Mac had permission to give it to Big Eddie.
He pushed the book across the table to the convict and said quietly, "I'll give
you a 'gee' per limb."
"Okay." Eddie agreed. "Four grand and he's out of commission for the next
six months. What's this?" he asked, picking up the book and looking it over.
"It has your fee enclosed. Take it to your cell and read between the
lines." Mac said softly. Earlier he had carefully spread out the money and
then glued the first blank page down to conceal the cash. He had hid two
thousand on the front inside cover and then two thousand on the back inside
cover. It was a simple trick, one he had learned as a teenager. A little bit
of cutting, some good glue, and no one was the wiser.
Eddie stood up to go, but before he could, Mac stopped him and warned, "I
can count on you to do the job, right? I wouldn't want to spread it around
that your word is no good. I may not be in the can right now, but I know a lot
of guys who are." The lie was very believable.
Big Eddie actually looked hurt. "It'll get done. I said it would and I
always honor my contracts." He waved the book, then walked away without
looking back. Beaten by the man's criminal partner or not, Eddie had been
hired and paid to do a job. And he would fulfill his obligations. He may be a
woman beater and a murderer, but he could be counted on to keep his
word.
Three days later, Mac was drinking his morning coffee and flipping through
his daily paper, looking for word of Eddie's handy work. And on page six, Mac
saw what he had been watching for. There was a brief 3 inch column story
underneath a small head line that read, 'Guard attacked while on duty.'
Mac quickly scanned the story, seeking out the key words and the main points.
When he read the part about the 'assailant or assailants' not being found, he
took another drink of coffee and silently thanked Big Eddie.
He knew the crime couldn't be linked to him, he had signed a false name in
the register, and he had even gone so far as to have worn a special lotion on
his face. A lotion, invented by Dr. Frye that was invisible to the naked eye,
but on video, his facial features would show up blurry on all of the
surveillance cameras and any photo's that might have been taken.
Earlier in the year, Dr. Frye had had the agents test it for him, and Mac,
true to form, stole a small bottle of the stuff just because he thought it just
might come in handy someday.
The agent grinned to himself, there was no tangible proof that Mac was ever at
Kensington visiting the convict. Mac thought to himself how on some days, how
much he loved his job.
He drained the last of his coffee and put the cup in the kitchen sink,
Mac had no guilty feelings about he had done, whatsoever. Gant got what was
coming to him. In fact, the guard was lucky Mac hadn't paid Eddie to kill him,
something he knew Eddie would have done if the price were right. He left his
kitchen and went into the living room. Pulling a key from the pocket of his
robe, he unlocked a small cabinet door on his wall unit.
The video of Victor and the rape had been safely stashed away inside a small
safe, which was in turn hidden in the cabinet. Mac pulled the tape out and
locked the cabinet up. He lifted the flap and grabbed the shiny black ribbon,
pulling on it until all of it had been removed from its plastic casing. Then
he gathered up the tape and threw it along and the cartridge into his garbage.
Pleased that Victor would never have to know that such a filthy document
even existed. Mac was doubly more pleased that Gant had not gotten away with
his crimes.
Later that night Mac gone over to Victor's apartment armed with a bottle of
excellent white wine and a good mood. He pointed out the story to his lover,
who, as expected, hand no sympathy what so ever for Gant.
"Too bad they didn't finish the job." Victor commented as he drained his
wine away. "Come on." He said to Mac. "Lets got to bed." He stood up and
pulled Mac by the hand to his bedroom.
After the usual fore-play, Victor had shyly asked Mac to make love to him.
The request came as a complete, yet welcomed surprise.
Mac wanted to make this first, real experience for Victor a memorable one,
one that he'd remember because it had been so good.
So Mac took his sweet time, working his lover slowly into sexual crescendo
that ended with Victor arching his back in complete pleasure and crying out
Mac's name.
Afterwards, both men had lain still amongst the feather duvet and cuddled,
their arms wrapped tightly around each other.
Later that evening, the two of them lay on opposite ends of the love seat
with their legs entwined around each other. Every time one or the other got
up, he did not to walk by without first giving each other long, lingering
tongue touching kisses.
"Mmmm, I feel soooo good." Victor declared after one such kiss. For him
life couldn't be better, Matt was free from Kensington, The judges had created
their own punishment and Gant's penalty had been served up by a disgruntled
felon.
The lovemaking had been positively perfect, Victor couldn't remember there
ever being a time without Mac near his side. He waited until his lover had
laid back down, after using the washroom, and said mischievously, "Mmm, I'm
hungry. Good sex does that to me. Want some popcorn?"
Victor was sure to make a show of rubbing his stomach, as if to prove his
hunger. Knowing full well that his lover didn't care for Clint Eastwood
movies, Victor was sure that he would not have to leave the couch.
"Don't get up. I'll make it." Mac got up as quickly as he could, and
fled to the kitchen...
Several minutes later, before Victor knew it, his eyes grew heavy and then
closed all together...
Finally, Mac drained the rest of his beer and then came in from the cold.
Walking over to his still sleeping lover, Mac grabbed Victor's shoulder and
shook it. "Come on Vic. Let's go back to bed."
Victor rolled over slowly and opened his eyes, "Is the movie over?"
"Dirty Harry is done. The story is finished." Mac put his arm around Victors
shoulders and led him to the bedroom.
THE END
Part Sixteen
ant walked away from the agents and stepped into a dark corner of the
room, secreting himself in the shadows. He watched- his attention focus solely
on Victor- as Marc, the musketeer, grabbed the shirt of the green-eyed man and
hauled him roughly to his feet. Victor's eyes fluttered open at the harsh
treatment, and he 'came to' from being temporarily knocked out. 
