I tried to catch Owens' eye to see if he had any ideas, but he too was watching the doorway, waiting for Rhonda to reappear. She did, carrying a man's thick briefcase. Her face had gone deathly white, and I was afraid for a moment that she was going to faint. Instead, she stopped in the doorway and dropped the briefcase from knee level. It flopped onto the carpeting and fell over, but it didn't pop open.
"Come over here and open it, Paco," Tony said. "Let's make sure his little girl isn't jerking us around. There's supposed to be money in there, and some kind of paper as well."
It was issued like an order, and Paco obeyed without question. Putting his AK-47 on the floor beside him, he knelt and fumbled with the lock.
"Shit, man," he said after several futile attempts. "I can't. It's one of those damn combination locks. Want me to shoot it open?"
"Don't," Rhonda said. "I can open it. At least I think I can."
Surprised, we all looked at her.
"It's JoJo's," she explained. "I gave it to him for Christmas years ago when they were first coming out with the combination locks. Of course, if he's changed the combination…"
"Wait a minute," Tony said. "Whose did you say?"
Without bothering to answer him, Rhonda knelt on the floor and began tinkering with the lock, biting her bottom lip in concentration, oblivious to the two men watching her every move. Noticing their momentary lack of attention, I caught Guy Owens' eye.
Paco, kneeling beside Rhonda, was closest to Guy, and the deadly AK-47 still lay where he had left it, on the floor near his feet. Guy Owens rolled his eyes toward Paco in silent acknowledgement, while I calculated the seemingly immense distance between me and the death-dealing semiautomatic.
I knew only too well that we were taking a terrible risk. Withering fire from the semiautomatic would cut us to pieces if I was even a moment too late, but it was now or never. We wouldn't ever get another chance.
I edged closer to Tony, willing Rhonda to keep his attention focused on her slender, nimble fingers, praying that the creeps wouldn't sense the sudden surge of almost electric tension in the room.
The lid of the briefcase popped open revealing a briefcase full of money-tens, twenties, and hundreds, bound in careful stacks. That much money has a magnetic effect on some people, crooks in particular. Fortunately for us, both Paco and Tony were highly susceptible. While their eyes remained riveted to the spilling contents of the briefcase, Guy Owens and I launched our attack.
I didn't see Guy's well-placed kick. Instead, as I threw myself toward Tony, I heard the thud of a shod foot connecting with flesh followed by an agonized groan as Paco fell face down on the floor.
There was no time for me to draw the. 38. I threw myself toward Tony, aiming low, hoping to catch him in the abdomen before he could raise the gun to a firing position. He grunted in surprise as I crashed into him. The force of the blow knocked the pistol from his hand and sent it spinning onto the hard tiled surface of the dining room floor. Tony fell backward, carrying me with him through the dining room door where he sprawled face up on a glass-topped table.
We struggled there for a moment, both trying to gain an advantage. The table swayed crazily beneath our combined weight until the overstressed wrought-iron supports gave way and bent double. The glass itself crashed to the floor, splintering into huge shards four and five feet long.
When we landed, I was still on top and hanging onto Tony's legs, preventing the damaging kicks that were sure to follow if I let him loose. I saw Rhonda scramble desperately out of the way, kicking the assault rifle in front of her. For a moment Tony seemed stunned, breathless, then he began to clutch at my face. His sinewy thumbs were probing for my eyes, trying to blind me. I shook my head from side to side, trying to elude his grasp without letting go of his legs.
Just as his hands closed over my face, I heard Rhonda's voice say, "Freeze!"
There was unmistakable authority in the menacing word. Tony's fingers went suddenly limp, and he winced with pain.
"Get off him, Beau," Rhonda said urgently. "Be careful."
I glanced around, unable at first to see where her voice was coming from although she seemed to be somewhere behind me. When I tried to get up, I had to ease myself up over the assault rifle, which Rhonda Attwood held firmly, pressed deep in Tony's crotch. He tried to wiggle away.
"Don't you move," she ordered.
I wasn't sure at the time if she was bluffing or not. In fact, I'm not sure to this day whether or not she would have shot his balls off, but she sure as hell sounded serious, and Tony wasn't willing to call her on it.
I reached out to take the gun, but she shook her head and held onto it. "Check on Guy," she said. "He may need help."
Actually, guy Owens didn't need any help at all. With the semiautomatic in his hand, he was prodding the writhing Paco to his knees and forcing him over against the wall. As he moved, Paco clutched his gut and blathered that he needed a doctor.
Guy handed me the 9-mm. "Watch these guys," he said. "I'll be back in a minute."
"Are you going to call for help?"
"No," he said. "I'm going after super glue and duct tape."
"You're crazy," I yelled after him. "If you don't call the cops, I will."
"Don't bother," he said. "They already cut the phone lines."
"I'll go to one of the neighbors then," I said, as he came back into the room carrying a gigantic roll of duct tape and a vial of super glue. Taking the lid off the super glue, he went straight to Paco.
"Open your mouth," Owens ordered.
Paco looked at me, rolling his eyes in fright. "Open your mouth, damn you," Owens repeated.
Reluctantly, Paco opened his mouth and Owens spread a thin line of glue like a welder's bead across the terrified man's lower lip. "Hold 'em together, now," Owens said. "And don't move."
Paco did as he was told. I was afraid Guy Owens had gone totally round the bend.
"Look, Guy, this has all been too much for you. You've got to settle down and start thinking calmly. I'll go next door and call the sheriff."
"The hell you will," he said to me, and then to Rhonda, "Bring that other one over here. We'll glue his mouth shut, too."
Tony came across the room at Rhonda's urging and submitted to the super-glue treatment. As soon as he had administered the glue, Guy began the process of stripping off their clothes and taping their hands and feet together. He worked quickly, purposefully, with no lost motions.
"Are you listening to me?" I demanded. "What in the hell do you think you're doing, Ownes? Why are you messing around with glue and duct tape? This has gone just about far enough, don't you think?"
Owens didn't stop as he answered. "Their boss-man, some asshole named Monty, gave us two hours to come down here to the house, collect the money, and get back. If we're not back by the deadline, he'll kill Michelle."
"So what's the matter with calling the sheriff? It's a kidnapping, for Chrissake. Call in the fucking F.B.I."
Guy Owens turned to Rhonda. "What's your name?"
"Rhonda," she answered. "Rhonda Attwood." He did a momentary double take as her name registered, then he caught himself.
"Get the truck then load all that money back in the briefcase, Rhonda. We'll need to take that along. And you," he said to me. "Help me get these creeps loaded into their Isuzu. They made me drive. I left the keys in the ignition. We'll bring it right up to the door so the neighbors don't get an eyeful."