Jonas Saul - The Hostage

Saul, Jonas

The Hostage

After the fake cop disappeared into the house, Sarah redoubled her efforts on the door. She turned in the seat and laid her back down so she could kick at the glass. Nothing worked.

Drake breathed harder still. Without the aid of fresh air rushing in the windows, he got progressively worse.

Oh Parkman, where are you? I could really use your help here.

She grabbed the door handle and continued her attack.

“It ith no uth,” Drake said. “Here.” He handed her one pair of the cuffs. “I need wather.”

She understood. They were out of options. They had to change their circumstances. It would allow her to find a different way out. Nothing worked stuck in the car.

She gently placed the cuffs onto her bruised wrists, but kept them bound in front of her.

They waited, silently hoping the man came back soon. After what seemed like an hour, the front door of the house opened and the driver started down the front steps to make his way to the car.

Sarah held up her cuffs to show him. He nodded and smiled and looked for Drake’s. He also held them up.

“Okay, good,” the man said. “Now, add one more click so I know they’re secure and not on too loose and then we’ll go inside.”

Sarah clicked hers and Drake clicked his. Every second they were in the driver’s presence Sarah felt anger mixed with fear. He was too cool, too calm. One word resounded in her head: dangerous.

“Okay,” the man said. “Before I open the door, I have to warn you. Any act I deem aggressive toward my person or any attempt to escape will be met with more pepper spray — but I will empty the canister into your nose directly. When I drag you into the house, I will cut your body into as many pieces as I can and then make the other one of you eat the remains. Do not betray me. The stakes have been claimed and the price is too high. Are we clear?”

They both nodded their heads.

The door clicked on Sarah’s side. The man opened it and stepped back, a pistol in his hand.

What was that rant about pepper spray? Now it’s a gun?

He motioned for them to walk ahead of him. The house sprawled before her. There was some kind of patio on the roof but it was too dark to make anything out other than the railing.

She entered first into the house. It was so clean it almost looked sterilized. Off to the right of the main foyer sat large double doors that opened to a huge office. A banker’s desk sat near the window.

“This way,” the man motioned to the left with his gun toward the basement door.

Halfway down Sarah saw the large cages. She slowed her step and turned to see Drake right behind her. The driver raised his weapon and aimed it at her face.

“Keep moving. You’re in the one on the right.”

Sarah ran through her options but came up empty. Even if she grabbed something to throw, she wouldn’t be that effective with her hands cuffed in front of her.

She stepped down to the cement floor and walked up to the cage door. She had to do something. She couldn’t willingly walk into a death chamber. But what? She had no weapon and no way to wield one.

“I know what you’re thinking, but remember the consequences. The price is too high. Continue forward or I’ll shoot you in the leg and leave you alive long enough to do unspeakable things to you.”

Reluctantly, Sarah stepped into the cage, wondering if she would ever see outside the basement again.

The man came up behind her and shut the door, securing it with some kind of electronic lock. There was a small toilet, a clock on the back wall and a cot-sized mattress on the floor. A thin blanket lay spread over the mattress.

Drake entered his cell, equipped with the same interior. The walls were thick concrete all the way up to a concrete ceiling. The wall between the two cells consisted of half bars and half concrete. She could see Drake and his cot, but not the back area where his toilet would be, nor could he see hers.

He’s done this before.

She knew these cages weren’t just erected for her. In that case, could it be possible Vivian had allowed her to be taken so she’d locate this madman and be able to stop him?

He had an expert approach. The cages, the decked-out vehicle with fake ID, and a police siren. The man was a professional. He had nerves of steel to pull off what he did to get them there.

She sized everything up. All the bad guys were the same, they just wore different clothes. It was always a different set of circumstances, but she would prevail. Vivian wouldn’t have let her get trapped this easily. Something good would come her way.

The man stepped away from view and then a moment later came back with three water bottles in his hands. He tossed one through Sarah’s bars and the other two through to Drake.

Drake fumbled around and then grabbed one, tilted his head back and poured it all over his face, using his free hand to rub the water in.

The man stepped to Sarah’s cage and stared at her. His eyes roamed her body. She wanted to reach through the bars and tear them out of their sockets.

“I’ll be back later to talk. I will explain everything soon enough. I’m sure you’ll grow to enjoy your stay with me. Once you know my rules, things’ll become easier.” He stared into her eyes. “Sarah Roberts, you’re my little hostage now.”

He stepped away, ascended the stairs and left the basement, turning off the light as he shut the door.

Something burned Sarah’s ankle. She rolled over and smacked at it with both hands. Then something hot touched her side by her hip bone. She got up and swatted at it. She idly wondered if she’d been stung by a bee.

Then she remembered where she was. A cage in a madman’s basement. A burned-out match smoldered on the floor. Her tormentor had thrown lit matches at her.

“Wake up,” he said. “It’s five in the morning — time to wake up.”

“You wake me up with fucking matches?”

The man hadn’t uncuffed them yet as he didn’t return last night. A single overhead light cast him in an eerie glow. Sarah could barely see Drake’s feet at the edge of his little mattress. She couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s fine. We need to talk.”

“About what?”

The man slipped a thin box through the bars of her cage’s door and tossed it close to her. Then he leaned down and slid a small piece of something metallic along the floor.

“That’s a nail clipper. No long nails are allowed in my cells. Clip your fingernails and then your toenails. Do not let them touch the floor. Once you’ve collected all of them, hand them to me and slide the clipper back out.”

“Forget it. You aren’t getting shit from me until you tell me what this is all about.”

The man seemed to consider this for a moment.

“My name is Elmore. I operate an international company that sells used panties. In that box, you’ll find a variety of panties in many colors. Over the course of the next few days, you will wear the panties for at least six hours a day and then place them back in the box after you’ve been photographed wearing them for authentication purposes. That’s what this is all about.”

Sarah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you serious? Used panties? That’s insane. Who would buy such a thing?” His expression didn’t change. He wasn’t joking. “You kidnapped me to make me wear panties for your company? Are you insane? What the fuck are you? Nobody does shit like that.”

“You’ll do as I say. I know you will, because you’re not my only hostage. He is too.” The man nodded toward Drake. “When you prove difficult, I will start to take body parts off him one by one and mix it in with his food. You can watch your friend eat himself alive over the coming months. I’ve got all the time in the world, as do you.”