I feel around my body and pockets. I’ve been searched and stripped of weapons, communication devices, and any personal items.
With my right hand, I pull at my left shoe, tearing it off my foot. I hold the heel part against my thigh, sliding a small, discreet switch, and then turn the heel counterclockwise until it opens Get Smart style. I feel around for the special-issue-handcuff-master-key that is held in place. I never leave home without a master key when I’m on a job, never knowing the situation I will find myself in.
Blimey, it’s pitch black in here.
I insert the key into the little hole and twist, freeing myself from the pole, being careful not to jar my leg. Placing the master key back inside my heel, I return the shoe to my foot, and tuck the handcuffs inside my jacket pocket.
Just call me fucking Houdini.
Nothing but silence surrounds me. I don’t need a light to work out I’m in an enclosed room. I move my sorry ass until I can locate a wall and prop myself up against it, panting from the agony of dragging my useless leg.
The last thing I remember is walking out of the Old Capitol Inn on State Street, Jackson, to stretch my legs around four o’clock. I’d cut down a quiet street.
Those wankers must have been light on their feet because the bloody knobs had a bag over my head pulled tightly, and I felt a sharp prick near my collarbone. Seconds later, I was no good to anybody. There had to at least been two of them to get me loaded into waiting transportation and here.
I’m no lightweight.
They must have been staking the Old Capitol, waiting for me to emerge. I just had no idea how they knew I would be there.
I may have let my guard slip a little because I was thinking about Whisper and this father-like need I had to call her up and check on her all the time, but I had been giving her space. As an adult, she doesn’t need me worrying that she wasn’t coping without me around. Whisper has Miss Catherine, and she would have notified me if there were anything up with Whisper since I had left for this job.
Running my hands through my hair, I tug on the strands in frustration at the predicament I find myself in. If I’d been paying attention, I would not be in this bloody situation. I would have heard the fucking blighters who snuck up on me.
I am better than this.
At least Miss Catherine is there for Whisper until I can get out of here. I’ve no fucking clue why I wound up here. There are no enemies I know of, and I can’t say I’ve pissed anybody off recently. Everything has been legit with all the jobs I’ve been on.
What if this has to do with Whisper?
How could it?
I search the darkness, looking for answers that can’t be found. “Fuucck!” I let out a low growl of irritation at my stupidity in winding up here.
Have I left myself too complacent after adjusting Whisper to the world she was deprived of? Has an enemy been lurking in the shadows?
Did I miss something?
I need to think this out.
I’d left Grady, a fortyish ex-detective who’s freelanced on occasion for me over the past year, up in our room waiting for the intel for us to proceed on the job we had been booked for. We’d been holed up playing this waiting game, and I needed a break from the monotony. He suggested I stretch my legs, which wasn’t unusual.
I took him up on the offer.
Now, I’m here.
Where is Grady? Am I the only one in this dark space?
I spend the next half hour or so in monstrous pain as I curse my way around the room. It’s about a regulation cell size, six-by-eight feet, and all brick walls. The door is metal, so I can’t break it down, and there is no handle on the inside, therefore, no lock to work on.
It feels too much like a dead man’s cell.
They aren’t as stupid as I would like.
Motherfuckers!
On a whim, I shout out to the darkness, “Anybody else here?” Good guy or bad guy, I hope for a response.
I give it another shot. “Hey! Any sons of bitches here?” I shout even louder.
“Boxer?”
Where did that voice come from? I already worked out there was only me, myself, and I in this room, but it sounded a hell of a lot like… “Lincoln?”
“Boxer?” There it is again. The voice is clear enough, close by, yet not. There’s an echo about it, but it definitely sounds like Lincoln.
“Lincoln? That you, mate?” I wait and get no reply. Maybe I’m hearing things, the residue of the drugs playing with my mind. “Lincoln?” I shout out a little louder.
“Boxer, is that really you?” I hear Lincoln’s confusion.
“Yeah, mate, it’s me.” Can’t say I’m pleased there are two of us in here. What the hell is going on?
“Christ.” He sounds deflated. “They got you too.” His voice grows softer the more he talks. “Thought I was here by myself. I must have dozed off again for a bit.” Lincoln sounds off. Then he moans like he’s in real pain.
“You hurt, buddy?”
“They fucked my leg up.” I curse under my breath. “Figured I was a loner in here, but you must have been brought in when I was all lights-out. I’ve been in and out of consciousness for a few hours I gather. Did they bust you up too?”
“Yeah, got a complimentary enjoy-your-stay clubbed foot, Misery-style. You know that movie?”
“Yeah, Boxer. I know the one. Must hurt a ton, huh?”
“I’ll live.” I work my left shoe off carefully, figuring it will alleviate some of the pain. Feels like I have a Shrek-sized foot. “I woke up cuffed to a pole, too.”
“Houdini?” Lincoln is asking me if I pulled my trick with the master key.
“Always,” I reply, a smile in my voice. “Are you cuffed?”
“Was.” This made me smile again because he was packing in his shoe like I taught him. “I think the brains behind this operation figured a bone sticking out of my leg wasn’t enough incentive not to move around, had to cuff me too.”
“Motherfucking assholes! You didn’t say your leg was snapped. Did you get a good look at who did this to you?”
“Negative. Two guys jumped me and I had a syringe to my neck, and then I woke up here with a black cloth bag over my head and incredible pain in my shin. Something like a sledgehammer must have been used on it for the bone to push through my jeans. I hate to say it, but it’s a fucking mess.” Pain laces his words.
Time for a change of topic. “I can’t see for shit in here because it’s pitch-black. “You got any light, man?”
I hear a soft, tired laugh. “Got it lit up like sunshine in here. If your cell’s like mine, it has no windows and a heavy-duty solid metal door with no handle, so we can’t attempt to open it from the inside, and we won’t be able to kick it down. Not that we could anyway.” Our captor is already playing mind games with us. One in darkness, one left in bright light. Oh goodie, let the games play out.
I keep on talking to keep his mind busy, because from where I’m sitting, it isn’t looking very good for us getting out of here. “How is it we can hear each other?”
“There’s an air vent along the back wall about ten inches long, four inches high, low to the ground. If you can get to it, I’ll be a lot clearer.”
I shuffle my way over to that wall until I can find the vent and lie down beside it. It’s not far from where I was cuffed. I missed it on my first investigation of the cell. “Is this better now?”
“Read you loud and clear, Boxer.”