Parting Gifts, Part V
Title: Parting Gifts
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for violence
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own these people. Slavery is outlawed. To the dismay of some, I suspect.
WARNINGS: My first RPF. If this is anywhere near the truth, I'm from the Gamma Quadrant.
Summary: Jared Padalecki lost his husband, Jensen Ackles, through neglect. Then the real nightmare begins when a group kidnaps Jensen and ransoms him for fifteen million dollars. The problem isn't paying the money: it's getting Jensen back alive and in one piece.
Title Page
Day Three, Part Two
Chris personally delivered the gruesome package to the lab and met up with Steve who called him during his drive to San Diego. Chris waited until he was alone with his friend before repeating Jared’s request. To his surprise Steve didn’t look at all shocked.
“I was wondering if he was going to ask that,” Steve said.
“You were expecting him to go off the rails and into the Twilight Zone?”
“He hasn’t cracked. You don’t get to be the head of a powerful company without having a ruthless streak. Did you know the CEO position was slated to go to somebody else when Padalecki Junior snatched it?”
“No, I didn’t read up on the guy. Didn’t have the time,” Chris said defensively.
“The rumor was when his father retired he would hand over the position to Robert Singer who was the VP at the time. Three weeks before his scheduled retirement he changes his mind and gives the reins over to his son who was head of Development and Planning. Singer’s still there, acting as VP. Must have shocked the hell out of him when the CEO chair was pulled out from underneath his ass.”
“You think Padalecki kid had something to do with the coup?”
“I know he had something to do with it. From what I understand, he’s been doing his old man proud since he took over.”
“But how does this make sense with what he asked of us?”
“The kidnappers fucked with his life, Chris. They took everything away, everything he worked for, hoped for, and dreamt of. Yeah, he fucked it up good but that doesn’t mean other people have the right to pull the same shit. He’s got to be seeing red right now, especially with someone disfiguring his husband like that. There’s no way you cannot take that personally.”
“But to kill?”
“He knows the sons of bitches will do it again. Maybe not for five years, or ten, but there will come a day when they’re strapped for cash, and they’re going to remember how easy it was to shake down millions from a desperate husband. Don’t forget these men are aiming to go into business with drug cartels, and that’s a whole ‘nother level of crazy right there.”
“Okay, so let’s say we agree to do the wetwork, how the fuck are we going to track down these bastards in the next thirty-six hours without attracting suspicion? We know Ferris and Morgan will have nothing to do with it.”
Steve sighed, “Actually that’s pretty easy to do.”
Chris didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “Really?”
Steve nodded, “Really. The question is do we want to do it?”
Chris stared at his old friend, knowing what Steve was thinking. They've killed people, including innocent bystanders because their orders gave them no choice. In the heat of battle, noncombatants weren’t considered as such and were usually lumped into either enemy or friendly category in a blink of an eye. This practice didn’t bother them much until they left the service.
Then it bothered them a great deal, so much so that both avoided well-paying jobs offered by Blackwater in lieu of more tame positions in Ferris’ company.
“He’s right, isn’t he?” Chris asked, already knowing the answer.
“You know he is.” Steve answered. “Hell, they might target Padalecki again just because they know he’ll meet their demands.”
“Familiar hunting grounds and all that,” Chris said softly.
“Yeah,” Steve agreed.
“Do you want to do this?” Chris asked.
“I wouldn’t mind. The money’ll be enough for us to set up our own business and get help for some of our buddies. You know Michaels has to wait for eight fucking months to see a specialist for his kidney problem? He’ll be an addict by the time he finally sees the doc.”
“And there’s Takada,” Chris added.
“Silverman who’s on God knows how many anti-psychotic drugs.”
“I don’t know how much he’ll pay us.”
“Fifteen million, ask him for fifteen million.”
“Jesus, Steve, are you fucking insane?”
“No, it’s a good number, and I think he’ll say yes. In fact, I think he’ll like it.”
“That's a lot of blood money.”
“So what? So what if we get our hands dirty? Silverman, Takada, Michaels, they’ll get the second chance they deserve. The second chance Uncle Sam never gave, the cheap bastard.”
It was then Chris realized his friend was a breath away from throwing punches. He had never seen Steve angry - annoyed, yes, maybe even pissed but never enraged enough to scare him.
“Steve…”
“We got lucky, Chris, you know that, right? I’m never going to run a marathon but we’re not going batshit insane because of pain, real or imagined. All our limbs are in working order, which is more than what half of our friends can say. So what if we kill some piss-ass motherfuckers who decided to make easy money by terrorizing a family? Yeah, Ackles and Padalecki are gay, so who gives a fuck? They rescue a kid rotting away in Romania, bring her here, and against all odds nurse her halfway to normal. Then this shit happens and it’ll probably take them another fucking year before she sees the world right side up.
“So I have no problems erasing the assholes, none at all. Especially if it means giving Takada a chance to see his kid graduate sixth grade.”
Chris couldn’t meet Steve’s gaze during his outburst. The furious words scared him but they also forced him to see reason in its most awful simplicity. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and gave a huge sigh. “So, fifteen million then?”
Steve nodded, “Fifteen million.”
“What’s your plan?”
“You’re going to like it. I guarantee it.”
“Well, shit, lay it on me, son.”
“I just got off the phone with Sam,” Jeff said.
“Ferris? What does she want?” Chris asked.
“A private meeting at seven,” Jeff answered.
Jared looked at the puzzled faces around him. “Isn’t that the norm? Your firm’s about to cough up fifteen million dollars. I’m pretty sure you guys are going to need a guarantee from me that I won’t stiff you the money.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Justin said.
“Why not?” Jared asked.
“The money’s already guaranteed,” Justin explained. “When you signed the documents allowing the firm to handle these kind of incidents, you also agreed to cover whatever cost the firm will ratchet up while dealing with the case. They should just need to release the ransom money to a private account in a country that doesn’t place too much faith in Homeland Security.”
“Homeland Security?” Jared echoed.
Jeff gave up any pretense of not understanding where the conversation was heading. “After 9/11 all monetary transactions over certain amount are automatically scrutinized and sometimes halted. That’s why we can’t electronically wire fifteen million directly from one of your accounts to a bank in Bogotá. That’s going to get too much attention from all the alphabet agencies and questions are bound to rise.”
“Alphabet?” Jared said, feeling frustrated with the language the men used so carelessly around him.
“CIA, FBI, NSA, DEA,” Steve explained. “Alphabet agencies.”
Jared gave a tired nod of understanding. “So what? What if they end up finding out it’s ransom money? What can they do?”
“A lot, considering the bank,” Jeff answered. “The DEA can make a case against you, saying you’re ‘supporting’ drug trafficking. It’s all bullshit of course and the case will probably fall through on appeals, if it even gets that far.”
“But that’s not a risk you want to take considering how fucking long these cases take to get to court to begin with” Chris added. “But all bets are off if Homeland Security gets involved.”
“Why would they want to get involved?” Justin asked, earning a look of gratitude from his boss.
“Domestic terrorism,” Steve answered. “It’s all too easy for a similar scenario to come up, but instead of money the kidnappers could demand a blueprint to a federal building or a keycard that gives them access to a national monument. So, the government will use you as an example to dissuade any other desperate victim from caving into the kidnapper’s demands.”
“Jesus,” Jared whispered. “They can actually do all that?”
Jeff nodded, “Fifteen million to Bacatá Banco Internacional, they’ll definitely think twice before letting that go through.”
“So the kidnappers already know the insurance firm will make the actual payment,” Justin said.
“Yeah, looks like,” Chris said. “Which means they’re familiar with how the ransom’s paid out.”
“Did you guys ever consider the fact that this could be an inside job?” Justin asked bluntly. “The kidnappers have been consistently one step ahead of us the entire time. And I get the feeling it’s going to be like that right up to the end.”
“We have a system already in place to deal with that,” Jeff said. “The firm goes into lockdown the moment a team is formed to deal with the situation. So, the only people in the firm who knows about the kidnapping are all in this room besides Sam and she’s the only one who’s got access to everything. With the lab it’s just Eric and his boss, and they only answer to Sam. If we need more people they have to get clearance first from either Sam or myself. No one else.”
The explanation seemed to satisfy Jared so Jeff decided a hasty breakfast was in order before the meeting with Ferris.
While making a fresh pot of coffee, Jeff asked Jared, “If Ackles wasn’t your date then how long did you wait before you went after him? Because if my memory serves me correctly you guys started dating before the year was out.”
“How do you know that?” Jared asked, irked that all he had done in the last hour was revealing his ignorance.
“I read it in the GQ interview you gave in 2005,” Jeff answered.
Jared shook his head, “Sorry, I forgot all about that. Seems like a lifetime ago.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Jeff said gently.
“Four days,” Jared answered weakly, “four very long days.”
July 23, 2000
Jared waited for the requisite four days before calling Jensen. To his relief and surprise Jensen was amiable to meeting him for lunch. However, Jared ended up eating by himself as his date never showed. Initially he thought he was blown off, but Jensen did not seem the type to be so rude: he would at least call to explain why he'd cancel. Worry, not annoyance, compelled Jared to the hotel Jensen was staying.
When Jensen opened the door, Jared's worry escalated to full-blown fear.
"What happened?" Jared asked as he took in the man's disheveled appearance, red-rimmed eyes and pale face.
“They were murdered. All of them," Jensen answered dully.
“What do you mean all?” Jared asked, confused.
“Everyone at the hospital and the camp - patients, counselors, nurses, even Father Dominic and Sister Marie. All of them. There are no survivors.”
“Oh Jesus,” Jared whispered as he collapsed on the sofa next to Jensen.
“When the searchers reached the camp … they said it was like all the others. They were butchered, raped, and tortured.” Jensen rubbed his mouth furiously with the back of his hand. “The motherfuckers used machetes. Didn’t want to waste bullets I guess. Maybe some of the healthier kids made it out but it’s a war zone, Jared. Where are they going to go? Where are they going to run?”
Jared hugged Jensen as tears slowly fell from him. When people died around Jared, gentle words were used: succumbed, passed away, and such. Murder, butchered, rape - none of these things filtered into his life until now. As Jared held Jensen in his arms, he suddenly realized that even as horrific as the words were, they were part of Jensen’s life, and if Jared wanted to get to know him better, it meant Jared had to get used to them.
I’m so sorry seemed both pathetic and inadequate so Jared didn’t say anything. He just held Jensen, allowing the man to grieve for a loss Jared was privileged enough to never contemplate. After he stopped crying Jensen began to talk about his work. At first it sounded terrible, but soon thereafter Jared began to understand why Jensen had chosen such a dangerous occupation.
For hours that followed they talked, and when evening soothed over the skyline Jared came to the sobering conclusion that he was very much falling in love. And it terrified him because Jensen was someone who had no need of Jared’s money or power, so all the usual avenues that Jared took to woo a person were rendered useless. With this man Jared had to be inventive, original, and damn lucky.
Jared waited until well into evening before convincing Jensen he needed to eat. Since he knew the hotel's room service was considered dismal he took Jensen to a local Indian restaurant famous for its tandoori dishes. Jared knew his new friend wouldn't eat much but that didn't stop him from ordering half the menu. He was determined that Jensen eat something, even if it meant pecking at the various plates spread out in front of him.
I know we can’t save the world, but I’ll help you try. You and me, buddy. To the end. Jared thought as he watched Jensen eat a small helping of tandoori chicken.
The promise echoed in Jared’s heart long after he dropped Jensen off at the hotel. And the terrible joy it brought made it impossible for him to fall asleep. Instead, he looked over the various reports piled on his desk and thought about a future that was no longer so nebulous. He drew a list of things that needed to be done in the coming weeks. First being seducing Jensen. And that task seemed daunting enough to keep Jared wide awake for the rest of the night.
Sam entered the office with none of her usual flair. In fact, Jeff thought his boss looked like she just checked out of a hospital and against her doctor’s advice.
“Gentlemen, thank you for seeing me. I know your time is precious so I’ll get right to the point. A month ago a discrepancy in our finances caught my attention. A week later, my CFO, Thomas Welk, fled to Saudi Arabia with the money he had funneled from the firm. As it turns out he had been secretly buying various securities and stocks for last two years with the company's money.
“For a man who was suppose to have been so brilliant with finances, he sucked shit when it came to actual investing. In fact, the money he finally ended up with is less than twenty percent of what he started with. To put it bluntly, we don’t have the money to pay the ransom.”
“Oh my God,” Chris whispered.
“We are tracking down Welk, and it won’t be long before we have him back, but that operation will take at least two weeks, and the kidnappers want the ransom money by noon, tomorrow?”
“Yeah, so if the firm can’t pony up then, Jared, what kind of liquid assets do you have?” Jeff asked.
“Not anywhere close to fifteen million, and I know my dad doesn’t have anything like that either,” Jared answered. “Most of our money’s been invested in the Ross Tower, including our shares in the company.”
“Is there any way you can borrow from a bank?” Jeff asked.
“Not in twenty-four hours,” Jared answered.
“What about the firm?” Chris asked Sam.
“No, we need collateral and we haven’t got enough.”
“And wouldn’t that send up a red flag to the Feds?” Justin said.
“Fuck them,” Jared said hoarsely. “I don’t give a shit about that anymore. If I can’t pay the ransom … they’ll kill him. Oh God, they’ll kill Jensen.”
Justin shook his head, “Maybe you can’t, but you have friends, sir.”
“What are you talking about?” Ferris asked.
“He’s right,” Jared said. “Mike Rosenbaum, Tom Welling, and Chad Murray. They might be able to loan us what we need.”
“Contact them, and make sure they get here as soon as possible,” Ferris said. "I apologize but I have to return to the firm. Please contact me as soon as you've spoken to your friends."
“I will,” Jared said as he began calling.
It spoke a great deal about how these men viewed their friendship with Padalecki when all three arrived less than an hour later. Rosenbaum was still in his pajamas and bathrobe, and Welling looked like he came straight from the gym. Jeff suspected Murray was still wearing the outfit he had on the night before, reeking cigarette smoke and booze.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Chad asked in exasperation as he dove for the fresh coffee on the table. “I haven’t had the need to eat breakfast since Duke, man!”
“And it shows,” Tom said dryly. “Jared, what happened? Where’s Jensen?”
Jared opened his mouth to answer but nothing came. Instead he sat on the nearest armchair and buried his face in his hands.
“Is something wrong with Jensen? Is he in a hospital or something?” Chad asked, the coffee all but forgotten.
“Please sit down. We have some very bad news,” Jeff said.
The three man all sat around the table, eyeing Jared with worried stares.
“Mr. Ackles has been kidnapped,” Jeff said.
“Oh hell,” Mike hissed. “How much are they asking for?”
“Fifteen million,” Jared answered hoarsely.
“Don’t you have a firm that handles all that stuff?” Chad asked.
“I am representing that firm,” Jeff answered, “and unfortunately due to unforeseen circumstances, we won’t be able to get the money for few weeks.”
“How much time did they give you?” Mike asked.
“One day, and I honestly believe the kidnappers will not wait a minute longer,” Jeff said.
“They sent me his finger,” Jared said, “it was still wearing the wedding band. The lab called few minutes ago. They tested the tissue and said Jensen was alive when they cut it off. I don’t know if I’m suppose to be happy or sad: happy that he’s still alive, or sad because they … he was awake when they did it. I just don’t know anything anymore.”
“Is there an account already set up?” Mike asked flatly.
“Yes, in Brussels. That way we won’t be attracting too much attention.”
“I have eight that I can wire directly over; it won’t be a problem.” Mike said.
“Two,” Tom said. “Any more and I’m going to need another day.”
“Don’t sweat it, Tom. I have the other five covered,” Chad said.
“You guys realize you might get in real trouble for doing this,” Jeff cautioned. “Not that I’m in any way discouraging you.”
“I’ve done this before,” Mike said, earning shocked glances from everyone. “Three years ago my dad got taken while he was doing a tour of the newest factory in Spain. He nearly died of dehydration because the fuckers locked him up in a room without any ventilation. He had two heart attacks before the doctors could stabilize him.”
“You never said anything,” Chad said.
Mike shook his head, “It wasn’t something you can talk over a Tuesday night poker game, and we wanted to forget about it ASAP. Anyway, that’s why I’ve got so much cash humming in a personal account in Hong Kong, been saving it for a rainy day such as today.”
Chad shrugged carelessly. “It pays to have portable goods around when you supply the bling-bling to the elite. Got the five in diamonds at home. Can liquidate it probably by ten, definitely by noon. No questions asked.” Chad paused for a moment then added, “I love my life.”
“Why the hell do you have five million dollars worth of diamonds stashed in your sock drawer? Isn’t that dangerous?” Tom asked Chad.
Chad shook his head, “Not really, the Grammys are coming up and that means there’s going to be shitload of ‘artistes’ lined up in front of my place, looking for custom-made crap." Chad saw the amused look on Mike’s face and said, “Do you think people watch those dumbass award shows because they actually appreciate the performing arts? No, man, it’s all about the red carpet and what people are draping themselves in.”
“So says a true entrepreneur,” Mike said dryly.
Tom took a glance at Jared and saw the indescribable look on his face. “Jared, don’t worry about the money. We’ll get Jensen back.”
Jared didn’t say anything, he only gave a tense nod. Jeff stood up and gave each man a piece of paper with the bank’s ID code and account number. “They can process the transaction even after five. It’s one of their specialties.”
“Sounds good,” Mike said and stood up to leave.
“How’d you guys like to get on the ground floor of my NY project?” Jared said, his voice rough with emotion.
“The Tower?” Tom asked. “Are you serious?”
“Jared, that’s some heavy real estate you’re offering.” Mike cautioned his friend. “You should think about it, but after all this shit’s over.”
Jared shook his head, “No, after this I’m moving my family the fuck away from here, and maybe NYC isn’t a bad place to stay for a while. And if I am, I’d like to continue our poker tradition. Can’t trust too many people to not cheat, you know.”
“That would be so sweet!” Chad said. “Hell, I always wanted a pad in NY!”
“Oh God, you’re going to be my neighbor?” Tom said with exaggerated horror.
Mike grinned, “Now there’s a scary thought.” He stared at Jared with appraising eyes but a gentle smile. “Just do what needs to be done and get our Jenny boy back, okay?”
Jared nodded before shaking each of his friend’s hands as farewell. He stayed in the armchair as he doubted he could stand.
“Remarkable men, all of them,” Steve said softly. “Didn’t bat an eye when they offered the money.”
“Good friends, even the jackass,” Chris chimed in, earning a small guffaw from Jared.
Jeff was still talking into his cell when he returned. “Yeah, the money’s set. So what about the transportation and medical help?”
Whatever the answer was it seemed to please him. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”
Jeff hung up and said, “The moment Jensen’s released we’re going to take your family and Hartley to Massachusetts where Sam has arranged an entire hospital floor for your disposal. At the same time we’ll be alerting the security for all your family members. They’ll probably relocate them to a safe area and wait for twenty-four hours before visiting you.
“That way we can be relatively sure that this scenario won’t repeat again. So, it’s best if you pack now. Nothing big, we don’t want to draw any attention. Maybe an overnight bag for each of you. Is this acceptable?”
“Yeah,” Jared said, “I should talk to Anna. She must be climbing the walls by now.”
Justin followed his boss without a backwards glance. Steve stared at the bodyguard with open curiosity as he disappeared from sight. “That there is a man madly in love,” he said softly. “Poor bastard.”
“He’s in love with his boss?” Chris asked.
“No, not with Padalecki,” Steve answered.
Chris mouthed a silent ‘oh’ then said, “Poor bastard doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
Jeff suddenly barked, “What did you two talk about in the lab?”
“None of your fucking business?” Chris answered sharply.
“That’s right, and let’s keep it that way. If you guys are up to something, I don’t want to know about it, ever. Is that clear?”
Steve nodded, “Not a problem.”
“Get out of here, I got work to do,” Jeff said as he planted himself in front of the desk.
The two men didn't look back as they left the office. By unspoken agreement they made their way poolside.
“That was freaky,” Chris said.
“He’s not an idiot. He suspects something,” Steve said, “but he’s not going to do anything. He has to focus all his attention right now on the job. After that, what can he do?”
Chris nodded and pulled out a cigarette. “Still makes me nervous though.”
“You always were the nervy one,” Steve said good-naturedly. “Did you talk to Jim?”
“Yeah, he took the job.”
“What did you offer?”
“We’re bringing him back,” Chris replied with a stubborn set to his jaw.
“Back … back as in here? Back in the States?”
Chris nodded and studiously focused on his boots as Steve stared at him with a look of astonishment.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve finally blurted out.
“Nope, look, it’s been ten years. Nobody’s looking for Beaver now, and he deserves to die on home soil, don’t you think?”
“I thought his cancer was in remission.”
“For now,” Chris said, “but who knows for how long?”
“Fuck,” Steve grimaced, “yeah, okay, so where do we put him?”
“Massachusetts, maybe Seattle if he wants to head west. But even if one of our guys recognizes him, they’re not going to blow the whistle: not after what he’s been through.”
“He killed one of us,” Steve reminded his friend. “That always earns some kind of payback.”
“If anyone deserves to die, Tiber was it. Hell, if I knew what he was doing, I would’ve killed the sick fuck myself.”
Steve grabbed the cigarette from his friend’s hands and started smoking. “Does he need anything?”
“No, he’s been down there so long he’s got all the connections he needs.”
“How do we get him stateside?”
“Leave that to me,” Chris answered. “By the way, Beaver says your idea’s fucking insane, but he thinks it’ll work.”
“What about Padalecki? What did he say?”
“I was about to go ask him. You want to come?”
Steve nodded and flicked the cigarette into the pool. “Yeah, I want to see his face when he hears this. That way I’ll know if he’ll crack or not. Remember, if he agrees to this he’s going to be implicated in a murder or, more likely, murders, so I want to make sure he knows what he’s getting into.”
“Thought you might say that.”
The two men found Jared sitting in his bedroom, holding a picture of Jensen. The man’s face had hollowed drastically from Christmas Eve when Steve had first seen him.
Jared shook his head and motioned for them to follow him to a balcony that ran parallel to the master suite. He closed the door behind them and took a deep breath. “I’m assuming you thought about my request earlier.”
“We accept,” Chris said.
“How much?”
“Fifteen million,” Steve answered.
“Done, but it’ll take me a month to get the money. Is that all right with you?”
“Not a problem,” Chris said. “And another thing - the ransom money, you can’t have it back. As long as it stays in Colombia, no one will suspect you.”
“I don’t care about the goddamn ransom money,” Jared hissed. “It’s poison as far as I’m concerned.”
“Then we have an agreement,” Steve said. “We already started the ball rolling so if you want to back out, you have to do it now.”
Jared shook his head, “Not backing out. They stole my family then terrorized and maimed us for life. And it was all for money, nothing else.” Jared paused for a moment before asking, “Why do they have to have twenty million? Why couldn't they have settled with the eight they already had?”
“They promised the cartel twenty million, so they had no choice but to deliver,” Chris answered. “For the cartels, twenty million is petty cash. To them it’s about trust and the ability to keep one's promises. If the kidnappers weren’t able to pony up the twenty mil, the cartel would’ve killed them just for wasting their time.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jared whispered. “Who in their right mind would want to get into bed with these guys?”
“Crazy or greedy, or both,” Steve said, “which would go a long way in explaining the kidnapping. Anyway, the ransom money is unrecoverable. So I suggest you forget about it. Another thing, you must never speak to anyone about this, not even Jensen. Do you understand why?”
Jared nodded, “I’m going to start forgetting it now, and there’s no way in hell I’m putting this on Jensen’s shoulders. Not after what … no, he deserves a fresh start, as far away as possible from this fucking nightmare.”
“All right then,” Chris said and turned to Steve. “We understand each other perfectly, yeah?”
Steve nodded and placed a gentle hand on Jared’s forearm. “In less than a day you, your husband and your daughter will be together again. Just focus on that, nothing else.”
“I’m getting real tired of the ‘carrot-and-the-stick’ speech.”
“We’ll leave you to finish packing,” Chris said and tugged Steve along with him.
Steve pragmatically kept quiet until they were out of earshot. Then he gave Chris a shove to express his annoyance and nothing more, as he was well aware of Jeff’s bugs scattered about the mansion. Chris grimaced but said nothing as the two made their way to the kitchen. They were finishing up the coffee when Jeff joined them.
“Padalecki’s friends came through. The money was transferred fifteen minutes ago. Sam just got the confirmation call from the bank.”
“Oh thank God,” Steve said, “man, when Sam told us the firm didn’t have the money, I was about to have a heart attack.”
“It must have killed her to find out she was betrayed like that,” Chris said.
“Don’t feel sorry for her,” Jeff said. “She’ll get her pound of flesh. You can bet on that.”
“When did they say they’re going to contact us?” Chris asked as he finished his meal.
“Fourteen-hundred hours. They haven’t said anything else about the exchange. Cagey bastards.”
“So we wait,” Steve said.
“We wait,” Jeff echoed with a nod.
Cartagena, Colombia
Max Zweig, née James Beaver, docked his old fishing boat, waving at familiar faces, smiling widely when few enthusiastically waved back. He had visited Cartagena many times, enjoying the city’s old world charms and good food. His reputation as a marine mechanic was well established all along the coasts of South America, but he had chosen this particular port because of its charms, not for its selection of clientele. For that he had Rio and other, ritzier, spots.
Jim took with him one duffle to the airport where a small charter plane waited. He was among a group of German tourists and since he spoke the language fluently Jim had a lively discussion with the energetic crowd. There was another reason for this - he wanted the pilot to remember a German man of middling looks and height.
As the plane landed in Bogotá he hefted his duffle gently onto his lap. Most of the equipment was safely ensconced in containers but Jim still felt uneasy as the plane went through a rough touchdown. The lady to his right, called Eva, offered him a ride into the city and he accepted with a gentle touch on her right forearm. Predictably the widow blushed and flirted shamelessly as the two sat together in the touring bus.
The group got out in front of an old-fashioned hotel where an army of bellhops waited with luggage carts. Jim promised the widow he would call her at the hotel as soon as he was settled. The lie amused him greatly as he threaded his way to the poorer yet genteel side of the city. He was the type of man who could love only once, and the woman who could claim such a victory passed away years ago. For a moment Jim was overwhelmed with sadness for Bogotá was a beautiful and vibrant city, and his beloved Marissa would’ve been ecstatic to spend some time in a place such as this. And their daughter, Laurie, would’ve been even happier to do the same.
The memory of his murdered child refocused the former Marine, and Jim quickly got himself a room from a small but not-too-shabby hotel. He reread the e-mail Chris sent to him. It was written in a code he taught the young man when he was still too young to legally drink beer. Jim fondly remembered the first time he met the boy who would become a surrogate son. Seventeen-years-old, Chris was still small enough to be considered a runt by the other boys, and thus he was never invited to play any kind of sport with them. So, with limited forms of entertainment available, Chris had taken to haunting Jim’s store. When Jim had first opened the small new and used bookstore in Fayetteville, people were stunned. What did a former Marine who specialized in armaments know anything about books? Or running a business involving books?
But coupled with his tenacity and Marissa’s love of literature, the store actually thrived. Not all soldiers, extraordinary or otherwise, could exist on beer and television exclusively. So, it wasn’t long before Trojan Bookstore became popular for the denizens of Fayetteville and Fort Bragg. In fact, after three years it was possible for Jim to buy out the five-and-dime store adjacent to his business. Jim and his family immediately set to remodeling, and it was then Marissa became ill.
She was a fighter, and managed to live three months beyond what the doctors predicted. Her funeral was one of the largest on record as their patrons, friends, and family members all attended the ceremony. If it weren’t for Laurie, Jim would’ve been more than happy to be buried alongside his wife, as his grief was endless. But he somehow continued living, if only for his daughter's sake.
That ended the day a group of kids found Laurie’s remains scattered alongside a biking trail. The furor that rose from his child's brutal murder could not be contained. The soldiers, no matter what branch of the armed forces, took personal offense when one of their own suffered such a casualty. And the men that called Fort Bragg home were especially ferocious about this practice. Chris, who had become an operator for the Special Forces, really took the murder to heart and personally kept tabs on the investigation. A month went by when an anonymous tip led to the arrest of a man Chris considered a friend and a trusted colleague.
Jonathan Tiber didn’t bother to deny what he had done, and bragged about it when interrogated by the police department. Because of Tiber's military status, Jim knew that Laurie's killer would be made an offer: a confession in exchange for a lighter sentence. So, when the opportunity arose, Jim shot the murderer at point blank range, killing him.
Chris heard about the shooting and found Beaver in his house, waiting for someone to come and arrest him. He hustled his old friend and confidant to a small coastal town and convinced a captain of a fishing vessel to transport Jim one-way to Costa Rica. During the voyage Jim thought about killing himself, but was unable to go through with it because he wanted to join his family when he died. He found menial work in Costa Rica and Panama, applying his skills as a mechanic.
Two months after his escape Jim received a large package from Chris. There were news clippings detailing the discovery of Tiber’s collection of memento mori. The police had found he was not only a rapist, but also a serial killer. Tiber had started four years before he murdered Laurie, and the body count was conservatively estimated to be eighteen. The word ‘prolific’ was used repeatedly in the articles. This changed many things for Jim. Killing an operator meant a death sentence for him, but because of Tiber's crimes, Jim would be relatively safe from the super-soldiers as they were pragmatic enough to realize Tiber didn’t deserve such loyalty from them. Chris had also sent a bank check for twenty-seven thousand dollars from the sale of the bookstore and a false ID whose name was on the check.
Jim bought a used boat and a new identity with the money and began earnestly plying his trade as a marine mechanic. He kept in touch with Chris, especially when he was diagnosed with cancer. Jim was actually happy when he discovered his illness - it meant he could die without fear or shame. Unfortunately, the treatments were successful and he was forced to live.
As the years passed by Jim started to reminisce about the home he left behind. He missed good old-fashioned burger and beer joints, cool North Carolina nights, and the sound of music wafting from various cars parked around a swimming hole. So, when Chris’ offer came, the incentive was too much for Jim to turn down. He knew exactly what had to be done and wasn't a bit squeamish about it. After he was smuggled out of the States, he killed two more men - one who was about to rape a little boy, and another who tried to stab him with a broken bottle. He also knew his target was dangerous, and that he couldn’t make a single mistake. But Steve’s plan was pretty damn good one, and with a little finesse and a lot of luck, Jim would be headed back home in a month or less.
Part IV * Conclusion
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for violence
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own these people. Slavery is outlawed. To the dismay of some, I suspect.
WARNINGS: My first RPF. If this is anywhere near the truth, I'm from the Gamma Quadrant.
Summary: Jared Padalecki lost his husband, Jensen Ackles, through neglect. Then the real nightmare begins when a group kidnaps Jensen and ransoms him for fifteen million dollars. The problem isn't paying the money: it's getting Jensen back alive and in one piece.
Title Page
Day Three, Part Two
Chris personally delivered the gruesome package to the lab and met up with Steve who called him during his drive to San Diego. Chris waited until he was alone with his friend before repeating Jared’s request. To his surprise Steve didn’t look at all shocked.
“I was wondering if he was going to ask that,” Steve said.
“You were expecting him to go off the rails and into the Twilight Zone?”
“He hasn’t cracked. You don’t get to be the head of a powerful company without having a ruthless streak. Did you know the CEO position was slated to go to somebody else when Padalecki Junior snatched it?”
“No, I didn’t read up on the guy. Didn’t have the time,” Chris said defensively.
“The rumor was when his father retired he would hand over the position to Robert Singer who was the VP at the time. Three weeks before his scheduled retirement he changes his mind and gives the reins over to his son who was head of Development and Planning. Singer’s still there, acting as VP. Must have shocked the hell out of him when the CEO chair was pulled out from underneath his ass.”
“You think Padalecki kid had something to do with the coup?”
“I know he had something to do with it. From what I understand, he’s been doing his old man proud since he took over.”
“But how does this make sense with what he asked of us?”
“The kidnappers fucked with his life, Chris. They took everything away, everything he worked for, hoped for, and dreamt of. Yeah, he fucked it up good but that doesn’t mean other people have the right to pull the same shit. He’s got to be seeing red right now, especially with someone disfiguring his husband like that. There’s no way you cannot take that personally.”
“But to kill?”
“He knows the sons of bitches will do it again. Maybe not for five years, or ten, but there will come a day when they’re strapped for cash, and they’re going to remember how easy it was to shake down millions from a desperate husband. Don’t forget these men are aiming to go into business with drug cartels, and that’s a whole ‘nother level of crazy right there.”
“Okay, so let’s say we agree to do the wetwork, how the fuck are we going to track down these bastards in the next thirty-six hours without attracting suspicion? We know Ferris and Morgan will have nothing to do with it.”
Steve sighed, “Actually that’s pretty easy to do.”
Chris didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “Really?”
Steve nodded, “Really. The question is do we want to do it?”
Chris stared at his old friend, knowing what Steve was thinking. They've killed people, including innocent bystanders because their orders gave them no choice. In the heat of battle, noncombatants weren’t considered as such and were usually lumped into either enemy or friendly category in a blink of an eye. This practice didn’t bother them much until they left the service.
Then it bothered them a great deal, so much so that both avoided well-paying jobs offered by Blackwater in lieu of more tame positions in Ferris’ company.
“He’s right, isn’t he?” Chris asked, already knowing the answer.
“You know he is.” Steve answered. “Hell, they might target Padalecki again just because they know he’ll meet their demands.”
“Familiar hunting grounds and all that,” Chris said softly.
“Yeah,” Steve agreed.
“Do you want to do this?” Chris asked.
“I wouldn’t mind. The money’ll be enough for us to set up our own business and get help for some of our buddies. You know Michaels has to wait for eight fucking months to see a specialist for his kidney problem? He’ll be an addict by the time he finally sees the doc.”
“And there’s Takada,” Chris added.
“Silverman who’s on God knows how many anti-psychotic drugs.”
“I don’t know how much he’ll pay us.”
“Fifteen million, ask him for fifteen million.”
“Jesus, Steve, are you fucking insane?”
“No, it’s a good number, and I think he’ll say yes. In fact, I think he’ll like it.”
“That's a lot of blood money.”
“So what? So what if we get our hands dirty? Silverman, Takada, Michaels, they’ll get the second chance they deserve. The second chance Uncle Sam never gave, the cheap bastard.”
It was then Chris realized his friend was a breath away from throwing punches. He had never seen Steve angry - annoyed, yes, maybe even pissed but never enraged enough to scare him.
“Steve…”
“We got lucky, Chris, you know that, right? I’m never going to run a marathon but we’re not going batshit insane because of pain, real or imagined. All our limbs are in working order, which is more than what half of our friends can say. So what if we kill some piss-ass motherfuckers who decided to make easy money by terrorizing a family? Yeah, Ackles and Padalecki are gay, so who gives a fuck? They rescue a kid rotting away in Romania, bring her here, and against all odds nurse her halfway to normal. Then this shit happens and it’ll probably take them another fucking year before she sees the world right side up.
“So I have no problems erasing the assholes, none at all. Especially if it means giving Takada a chance to see his kid graduate sixth grade.”
Chris couldn’t meet Steve’s gaze during his outburst. The furious words scared him but they also forced him to see reason in its most awful simplicity. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and gave a huge sigh. “So, fifteen million then?”
Steve nodded, “Fifteen million.”
“What’s your plan?”
“You’re going to like it. I guarantee it.”
“Well, shit, lay it on me, son.”
“I just got off the phone with Sam,” Jeff said.
“Ferris? What does she want?” Chris asked.
“A private meeting at seven,” Jeff answered.
Jared looked at the puzzled faces around him. “Isn’t that the norm? Your firm’s about to cough up fifteen million dollars. I’m pretty sure you guys are going to need a guarantee from me that I won’t stiff you the money.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Justin said.
“Why not?” Jared asked.
“The money’s already guaranteed,” Justin explained. “When you signed the documents allowing the firm to handle these kind of incidents, you also agreed to cover whatever cost the firm will ratchet up while dealing with the case. They should just need to release the ransom money to a private account in a country that doesn’t place too much faith in Homeland Security.”
“Homeland Security?” Jared echoed.
Jeff gave up any pretense of not understanding where the conversation was heading. “After 9/11 all monetary transactions over certain amount are automatically scrutinized and sometimes halted. That’s why we can’t electronically wire fifteen million directly from one of your accounts to a bank in Bogotá. That’s going to get too much attention from all the alphabet agencies and questions are bound to rise.”
“Alphabet?” Jared said, feeling frustrated with the language the men used so carelessly around him.
“CIA, FBI, NSA, DEA,” Steve explained. “Alphabet agencies.”
Jared gave a tired nod of understanding. “So what? What if they end up finding out it’s ransom money? What can they do?”
“A lot, considering the bank,” Jeff answered. “The DEA can make a case against you, saying you’re ‘supporting’ drug trafficking. It’s all bullshit of course and the case will probably fall through on appeals, if it even gets that far.”
“But that’s not a risk you want to take considering how fucking long these cases take to get to court to begin with” Chris added. “But all bets are off if Homeland Security gets involved.”
“Why would they want to get involved?” Justin asked, earning a look of gratitude from his boss.
“Domestic terrorism,” Steve answered. “It’s all too easy for a similar scenario to come up, but instead of money the kidnappers could demand a blueprint to a federal building or a keycard that gives them access to a national monument. So, the government will use you as an example to dissuade any other desperate victim from caving into the kidnapper’s demands.”
“Jesus,” Jared whispered. “They can actually do all that?”
Jeff nodded, “Fifteen million to Bacatá Banco Internacional, they’ll definitely think twice before letting that go through.”
“So the kidnappers already know the insurance firm will make the actual payment,” Justin said.
“Yeah, looks like,” Chris said. “Which means they’re familiar with how the ransom’s paid out.”
“Did you guys ever consider the fact that this could be an inside job?” Justin asked bluntly. “The kidnappers have been consistently one step ahead of us the entire time. And I get the feeling it’s going to be like that right up to the end.”
“We have a system already in place to deal with that,” Jeff said. “The firm goes into lockdown the moment a team is formed to deal with the situation. So, the only people in the firm who knows about the kidnapping are all in this room besides Sam and she’s the only one who’s got access to everything. With the lab it’s just Eric and his boss, and they only answer to Sam. If we need more people they have to get clearance first from either Sam or myself. No one else.”
The explanation seemed to satisfy Jared so Jeff decided a hasty breakfast was in order before the meeting with Ferris.
While making a fresh pot of coffee, Jeff asked Jared, “If Ackles wasn’t your date then how long did you wait before you went after him? Because if my memory serves me correctly you guys started dating before the year was out.”
“How do you know that?” Jared asked, irked that all he had done in the last hour was revealing his ignorance.
“I read it in the GQ interview you gave in 2005,” Jeff answered.
Jared shook his head, “Sorry, I forgot all about that. Seems like a lifetime ago.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Jeff said gently.
“Four days,” Jared answered weakly, “four very long days.”
July 23, 2000
Jared waited for the requisite four days before calling Jensen. To his relief and surprise Jensen was amiable to meeting him for lunch. However, Jared ended up eating by himself as his date never showed. Initially he thought he was blown off, but Jensen did not seem the type to be so rude: he would at least call to explain why he'd cancel. Worry, not annoyance, compelled Jared to the hotel Jensen was staying.
When Jensen opened the door, Jared's worry escalated to full-blown fear.
"What happened?" Jared asked as he took in the man's disheveled appearance, red-rimmed eyes and pale face.
“They were murdered. All of them," Jensen answered dully.
“What do you mean all?” Jared asked, confused.
“Everyone at the hospital and the camp - patients, counselors, nurses, even Father Dominic and Sister Marie. All of them. There are no survivors.”
“Oh Jesus,” Jared whispered as he collapsed on the sofa next to Jensen.
“When the searchers reached the camp … they said it was like all the others. They were butchered, raped, and tortured.” Jensen rubbed his mouth furiously with the back of his hand. “The motherfuckers used machetes. Didn’t want to waste bullets I guess. Maybe some of the healthier kids made it out but it’s a war zone, Jared. Where are they going to go? Where are they going to run?”
Jared hugged Jensen as tears slowly fell from him. When people died around Jared, gentle words were used: succumbed, passed away, and such. Murder, butchered, rape - none of these things filtered into his life until now. As Jared held Jensen in his arms, he suddenly realized that even as horrific as the words were, they were part of Jensen’s life, and if Jared wanted to get to know him better, it meant Jared had to get used to them.
I’m so sorry seemed both pathetic and inadequate so Jared didn’t say anything. He just held Jensen, allowing the man to grieve for a loss Jared was privileged enough to never contemplate. After he stopped crying Jensen began to talk about his work. At first it sounded terrible, but soon thereafter Jared began to understand why Jensen had chosen such a dangerous occupation.
For hours that followed they talked, and when evening soothed over the skyline Jared came to the sobering conclusion that he was very much falling in love. And it terrified him because Jensen was someone who had no need of Jared’s money or power, so all the usual avenues that Jared took to woo a person were rendered useless. With this man Jared had to be inventive, original, and damn lucky.
Jared waited until well into evening before convincing Jensen he needed to eat. Since he knew the hotel's room service was considered dismal he took Jensen to a local Indian restaurant famous for its tandoori dishes. Jared knew his new friend wouldn't eat much but that didn't stop him from ordering half the menu. He was determined that Jensen eat something, even if it meant pecking at the various plates spread out in front of him.
I know we can’t save the world, but I’ll help you try. You and me, buddy. To the end. Jared thought as he watched Jensen eat a small helping of tandoori chicken.
The promise echoed in Jared’s heart long after he dropped Jensen off at the hotel. And the terrible joy it brought made it impossible for him to fall asleep. Instead, he looked over the various reports piled on his desk and thought about a future that was no longer so nebulous. He drew a list of things that needed to be done in the coming weeks. First being seducing Jensen. And that task seemed daunting enough to keep Jared wide awake for the rest of the night.
Sam entered the office with none of her usual flair. In fact, Jeff thought his boss looked like she just checked out of a hospital and against her doctor’s advice.
“Gentlemen, thank you for seeing me. I know your time is precious so I’ll get right to the point. A month ago a discrepancy in our finances caught my attention. A week later, my CFO, Thomas Welk, fled to Saudi Arabia with the money he had funneled from the firm. As it turns out he had been secretly buying various securities and stocks for last two years with the company's money.
“For a man who was suppose to have been so brilliant with finances, he sucked shit when it came to actual investing. In fact, the money he finally ended up with is less than twenty percent of what he started with. To put it bluntly, we don’t have the money to pay the ransom.”
“Oh my God,” Chris whispered.
“We are tracking down Welk, and it won’t be long before we have him back, but that operation will take at least two weeks, and the kidnappers want the ransom money by noon, tomorrow?”
“Yeah, so if the firm can’t pony up then, Jared, what kind of liquid assets do you have?” Jeff asked.
“Not anywhere close to fifteen million, and I know my dad doesn’t have anything like that either,” Jared answered. “Most of our money’s been invested in the Ross Tower, including our shares in the company.”
“Is there any way you can borrow from a bank?” Jeff asked.
“Not in twenty-four hours,” Jared answered.
“What about the firm?” Chris asked Sam.
“No, we need collateral and we haven’t got enough.”
“And wouldn’t that send up a red flag to the Feds?” Justin said.
“Fuck them,” Jared said hoarsely. “I don’t give a shit about that anymore. If I can’t pay the ransom … they’ll kill him. Oh God, they’ll kill Jensen.”
Justin shook his head, “Maybe you can’t, but you have friends, sir.”
“What are you talking about?” Ferris asked.
“He’s right,” Jared said. “Mike Rosenbaum, Tom Welling, and Chad Murray. They might be able to loan us what we need.”
“Contact them, and make sure they get here as soon as possible,” Ferris said. "I apologize but I have to return to the firm. Please contact me as soon as you've spoken to your friends."
“I will,” Jared said as he began calling.
It spoke a great deal about how these men viewed their friendship with Padalecki when all three arrived less than an hour later. Rosenbaum was still in his pajamas and bathrobe, and Welling looked like he came straight from the gym. Jeff suspected Murray was still wearing the outfit he had on the night before, reeking cigarette smoke and booze.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Chad asked in exasperation as he dove for the fresh coffee on the table. “I haven’t had the need to eat breakfast since Duke, man!”
“And it shows,” Tom said dryly. “Jared, what happened? Where’s Jensen?”
Jared opened his mouth to answer but nothing came. Instead he sat on the nearest armchair and buried his face in his hands.
“Is something wrong with Jensen? Is he in a hospital or something?” Chad asked, the coffee all but forgotten.
“Please sit down. We have some very bad news,” Jeff said.
The three man all sat around the table, eyeing Jared with worried stares.
“Mr. Ackles has been kidnapped,” Jeff said.
“Oh hell,” Mike hissed. “How much are they asking for?”
“Fifteen million,” Jared answered hoarsely.
“Don’t you have a firm that handles all that stuff?” Chad asked.
“I am representing that firm,” Jeff answered, “and unfortunately due to unforeseen circumstances, we won’t be able to get the money for few weeks.”
“How much time did they give you?” Mike asked.
“One day, and I honestly believe the kidnappers will not wait a minute longer,” Jeff said.
“They sent me his finger,” Jared said, “it was still wearing the wedding band. The lab called few minutes ago. They tested the tissue and said Jensen was alive when they cut it off. I don’t know if I’m suppose to be happy or sad: happy that he’s still alive, or sad because they … he was awake when they did it. I just don’t know anything anymore.”
“Is there an account already set up?” Mike asked flatly.
“Yes, in Brussels. That way we won’t be attracting too much attention.”
“I have eight that I can wire directly over; it won’t be a problem.” Mike said.
“Two,” Tom said. “Any more and I’m going to need another day.”
“Don’t sweat it, Tom. I have the other five covered,” Chad said.
“You guys realize you might get in real trouble for doing this,” Jeff cautioned. “Not that I’m in any way discouraging you.”
“I’ve done this before,” Mike said, earning shocked glances from everyone. “Three years ago my dad got taken while he was doing a tour of the newest factory in Spain. He nearly died of dehydration because the fuckers locked him up in a room without any ventilation. He had two heart attacks before the doctors could stabilize him.”
“You never said anything,” Chad said.
Mike shook his head, “It wasn’t something you can talk over a Tuesday night poker game, and we wanted to forget about it ASAP. Anyway, that’s why I’ve got so much cash humming in a personal account in Hong Kong, been saving it for a rainy day such as today.”
Chad shrugged carelessly. “It pays to have portable goods around when you supply the bling-bling to the elite. Got the five in diamonds at home. Can liquidate it probably by ten, definitely by noon. No questions asked.” Chad paused for a moment then added, “I love my life.”
“Why the hell do you have five million dollars worth of diamonds stashed in your sock drawer? Isn’t that dangerous?” Tom asked Chad.
Chad shook his head, “Not really, the Grammys are coming up and that means there’s going to be shitload of ‘artistes’ lined up in front of my place, looking for custom-made crap." Chad saw the amused look on Mike’s face and said, “Do you think people watch those dumbass award shows because they actually appreciate the performing arts? No, man, it’s all about the red carpet and what people are draping themselves in.”
“So says a true entrepreneur,” Mike said dryly.
Tom took a glance at Jared and saw the indescribable look on his face. “Jared, don’t worry about the money. We’ll get Jensen back.”
Jared didn’t say anything, he only gave a tense nod. Jeff stood up and gave each man a piece of paper with the bank’s ID code and account number. “They can process the transaction even after five. It’s one of their specialties.”
“Sounds good,” Mike said and stood up to leave.
“How’d you guys like to get on the ground floor of my NY project?” Jared said, his voice rough with emotion.
“The Tower?” Tom asked. “Are you serious?”
“Jared, that’s some heavy real estate you’re offering.” Mike cautioned his friend. “You should think about it, but after all this shit’s over.”
Jared shook his head, “No, after this I’m moving my family the fuck away from here, and maybe NYC isn’t a bad place to stay for a while. And if I am, I’d like to continue our poker tradition. Can’t trust too many people to not cheat, you know.”
“That would be so sweet!” Chad said. “Hell, I always wanted a pad in NY!”
“Oh God, you’re going to be my neighbor?” Tom said with exaggerated horror.
Mike grinned, “Now there’s a scary thought.” He stared at Jared with appraising eyes but a gentle smile. “Just do what needs to be done and get our Jenny boy back, okay?”
Jared nodded before shaking each of his friend’s hands as farewell. He stayed in the armchair as he doubted he could stand.
“Remarkable men, all of them,” Steve said softly. “Didn’t bat an eye when they offered the money.”
“Good friends, even the jackass,” Chris chimed in, earning a small guffaw from Jared.
Jeff was still talking into his cell when he returned. “Yeah, the money’s set. So what about the transportation and medical help?”
Whatever the answer was it seemed to please him. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”
Jeff hung up and said, “The moment Jensen’s released we’re going to take your family and Hartley to Massachusetts where Sam has arranged an entire hospital floor for your disposal. At the same time we’ll be alerting the security for all your family members. They’ll probably relocate them to a safe area and wait for twenty-four hours before visiting you.
“That way we can be relatively sure that this scenario won’t repeat again. So, it’s best if you pack now. Nothing big, we don’t want to draw any attention. Maybe an overnight bag for each of you. Is this acceptable?”
“Yeah,” Jared said, “I should talk to Anna. She must be climbing the walls by now.”
Justin followed his boss without a backwards glance. Steve stared at the bodyguard with open curiosity as he disappeared from sight. “That there is a man madly in love,” he said softly. “Poor bastard.”
“He’s in love with his boss?” Chris asked.
“No, not with Padalecki,” Steve answered.
Chris mouthed a silent ‘oh’ then said, “Poor bastard doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
Jeff suddenly barked, “What did you two talk about in the lab?”
“None of your fucking business?” Chris answered sharply.
“That’s right, and let’s keep it that way. If you guys are up to something, I don’t want to know about it, ever. Is that clear?”
Steve nodded, “Not a problem.”
“Get out of here, I got work to do,” Jeff said as he planted himself in front of the desk.
The two men didn't look back as they left the office. By unspoken agreement they made their way poolside.
“That was freaky,” Chris said.
“He’s not an idiot. He suspects something,” Steve said, “but he’s not going to do anything. He has to focus all his attention right now on the job. After that, what can he do?”
Chris nodded and pulled out a cigarette. “Still makes me nervous though.”
“You always were the nervy one,” Steve said good-naturedly. “Did you talk to Jim?”
“Yeah, he took the job.”
“What did you offer?”
“We’re bringing him back,” Chris replied with a stubborn set to his jaw.
“Back … back as in here? Back in the States?”
Chris nodded and studiously focused on his boots as Steve stared at him with a look of astonishment.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve finally blurted out.
“Nope, look, it’s been ten years. Nobody’s looking for Beaver now, and he deserves to die on home soil, don’t you think?”
“I thought his cancer was in remission.”
“For now,” Chris said, “but who knows for how long?”
“Fuck,” Steve grimaced, “yeah, okay, so where do we put him?”
“Massachusetts, maybe Seattle if he wants to head west. But even if one of our guys recognizes him, they’re not going to blow the whistle: not after what he’s been through.”
“He killed one of us,” Steve reminded his friend. “That always earns some kind of payback.”
“If anyone deserves to die, Tiber was it. Hell, if I knew what he was doing, I would’ve killed the sick fuck myself.”
Steve grabbed the cigarette from his friend’s hands and started smoking. “Does he need anything?”
“No, he’s been down there so long he’s got all the connections he needs.”
“How do we get him stateside?”
“Leave that to me,” Chris answered. “By the way, Beaver says your idea’s fucking insane, but he thinks it’ll work.”
“What about Padalecki? What did he say?”
“I was about to go ask him. You want to come?”
Steve nodded and flicked the cigarette into the pool. “Yeah, I want to see his face when he hears this. That way I’ll know if he’ll crack or not. Remember, if he agrees to this he’s going to be implicated in a murder or, more likely, murders, so I want to make sure he knows what he’s getting into.”
“Thought you might say that.”
The two men found Jared sitting in his bedroom, holding a picture of Jensen. The man’s face had hollowed drastically from Christmas Eve when Steve had first seen him.
Jared shook his head and motioned for them to follow him to a balcony that ran parallel to the master suite. He closed the door behind them and took a deep breath. “I’m assuming you thought about my request earlier.”
“We accept,” Chris said.
“How much?”
“Fifteen million,” Steve answered.
“Done, but it’ll take me a month to get the money. Is that all right with you?”
“Not a problem,” Chris said. “And another thing - the ransom money, you can’t have it back. As long as it stays in Colombia, no one will suspect you.”
“I don’t care about the goddamn ransom money,” Jared hissed. “It’s poison as far as I’m concerned.”
“Then we have an agreement,” Steve said. “We already started the ball rolling so if you want to back out, you have to do it now.”
Jared shook his head, “Not backing out. They stole my family then terrorized and maimed us for life. And it was all for money, nothing else.” Jared paused for a moment before asking, “Why do they have to have twenty million? Why couldn't they have settled with the eight they already had?”
“They promised the cartel twenty million, so they had no choice but to deliver,” Chris answered. “For the cartels, twenty million is petty cash. To them it’s about trust and the ability to keep one's promises. If the kidnappers weren’t able to pony up the twenty mil, the cartel would’ve killed them just for wasting their time.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jared whispered. “Who in their right mind would want to get into bed with these guys?”
“Crazy or greedy, or both,” Steve said, “which would go a long way in explaining the kidnapping. Anyway, the ransom money is unrecoverable. So I suggest you forget about it. Another thing, you must never speak to anyone about this, not even Jensen. Do you understand why?”
Jared nodded, “I’m going to start forgetting it now, and there’s no way in hell I’m putting this on Jensen’s shoulders. Not after what … no, he deserves a fresh start, as far away as possible from this fucking nightmare.”
“All right then,” Chris said and turned to Steve. “We understand each other perfectly, yeah?”
Steve nodded and placed a gentle hand on Jared’s forearm. “In less than a day you, your husband and your daughter will be together again. Just focus on that, nothing else.”
“I’m getting real tired of the ‘carrot-and-the-stick’ speech.”
“We’ll leave you to finish packing,” Chris said and tugged Steve along with him.
Steve pragmatically kept quiet until they were out of earshot. Then he gave Chris a shove to express his annoyance and nothing more, as he was well aware of Jeff’s bugs scattered about the mansion. Chris grimaced but said nothing as the two made their way to the kitchen. They were finishing up the coffee when Jeff joined them.
“Padalecki’s friends came through. The money was transferred fifteen minutes ago. Sam just got the confirmation call from the bank.”
“Oh thank God,” Steve said, “man, when Sam told us the firm didn’t have the money, I was about to have a heart attack.”
“It must have killed her to find out she was betrayed like that,” Chris said.
“Don’t feel sorry for her,” Jeff said. “She’ll get her pound of flesh. You can bet on that.”
“When did they say they’re going to contact us?” Chris asked as he finished his meal.
“Fourteen-hundred hours. They haven’t said anything else about the exchange. Cagey bastards.”
“So we wait,” Steve said.
“We wait,” Jeff echoed with a nod.
Cartagena, Colombia
Max Zweig, née James Beaver, docked his old fishing boat, waving at familiar faces, smiling widely when few enthusiastically waved back. He had visited Cartagena many times, enjoying the city’s old world charms and good food. His reputation as a marine mechanic was well established all along the coasts of South America, but he had chosen this particular port because of its charms, not for its selection of clientele. For that he had Rio and other, ritzier, spots.
Jim took with him one duffle to the airport where a small charter plane waited. He was among a group of German tourists and since he spoke the language fluently Jim had a lively discussion with the energetic crowd. There was another reason for this - he wanted the pilot to remember a German man of middling looks and height.
As the plane landed in Bogotá he hefted his duffle gently onto his lap. Most of the equipment was safely ensconced in containers but Jim still felt uneasy as the plane went through a rough touchdown. The lady to his right, called Eva, offered him a ride into the city and he accepted with a gentle touch on her right forearm. Predictably the widow blushed and flirted shamelessly as the two sat together in the touring bus.
The group got out in front of an old-fashioned hotel where an army of bellhops waited with luggage carts. Jim promised the widow he would call her at the hotel as soon as he was settled. The lie amused him greatly as he threaded his way to the poorer yet genteel side of the city. He was the type of man who could love only once, and the woman who could claim such a victory passed away years ago. For a moment Jim was overwhelmed with sadness for Bogotá was a beautiful and vibrant city, and his beloved Marissa would’ve been ecstatic to spend some time in a place such as this. And their daughter, Laurie, would’ve been even happier to do the same.
The memory of his murdered child refocused the former Marine, and Jim quickly got himself a room from a small but not-too-shabby hotel. He reread the e-mail Chris sent to him. It was written in a code he taught the young man when he was still too young to legally drink beer. Jim fondly remembered the first time he met the boy who would become a surrogate son. Seventeen-years-old, Chris was still small enough to be considered a runt by the other boys, and thus he was never invited to play any kind of sport with them. So, with limited forms of entertainment available, Chris had taken to haunting Jim’s store. When Jim had first opened the small new and used bookstore in Fayetteville, people were stunned. What did a former Marine who specialized in armaments know anything about books? Or running a business involving books?
But coupled with his tenacity and Marissa’s love of literature, the store actually thrived. Not all soldiers, extraordinary or otherwise, could exist on beer and television exclusively. So, it wasn’t long before Trojan Bookstore became popular for the denizens of Fayetteville and Fort Bragg. In fact, after three years it was possible for Jim to buy out the five-and-dime store adjacent to his business. Jim and his family immediately set to remodeling, and it was then Marissa became ill.
She was a fighter, and managed to live three months beyond what the doctors predicted. Her funeral was one of the largest on record as their patrons, friends, and family members all attended the ceremony. If it weren’t for Laurie, Jim would’ve been more than happy to be buried alongside his wife, as his grief was endless. But he somehow continued living, if only for his daughter's sake.
That ended the day a group of kids found Laurie’s remains scattered alongside a biking trail. The furor that rose from his child's brutal murder could not be contained. The soldiers, no matter what branch of the armed forces, took personal offense when one of their own suffered such a casualty. And the men that called Fort Bragg home were especially ferocious about this practice. Chris, who had become an operator for the Special Forces, really took the murder to heart and personally kept tabs on the investigation. A month went by when an anonymous tip led to the arrest of a man Chris considered a friend and a trusted colleague.
Jonathan Tiber didn’t bother to deny what he had done, and bragged about it when interrogated by the police department. Because of Tiber's military status, Jim knew that Laurie's killer would be made an offer: a confession in exchange for a lighter sentence. So, when the opportunity arose, Jim shot the murderer at point blank range, killing him.
Chris heard about the shooting and found Beaver in his house, waiting for someone to come and arrest him. He hustled his old friend and confidant to a small coastal town and convinced a captain of a fishing vessel to transport Jim one-way to Costa Rica. During the voyage Jim thought about killing himself, but was unable to go through with it because he wanted to join his family when he died. He found menial work in Costa Rica and Panama, applying his skills as a mechanic.
Two months after his escape Jim received a large package from Chris. There were news clippings detailing the discovery of Tiber’s collection of memento mori. The police had found he was not only a rapist, but also a serial killer. Tiber had started four years before he murdered Laurie, and the body count was conservatively estimated to be eighteen. The word ‘prolific’ was used repeatedly in the articles. This changed many things for Jim. Killing an operator meant a death sentence for him, but because of Tiber's crimes, Jim would be relatively safe from the super-soldiers as they were pragmatic enough to realize Tiber didn’t deserve such loyalty from them. Chris had also sent a bank check for twenty-seven thousand dollars from the sale of the bookstore and a false ID whose name was on the check.
Jim bought a used boat and a new identity with the money and began earnestly plying his trade as a marine mechanic. He kept in touch with Chris, especially when he was diagnosed with cancer. Jim was actually happy when he discovered his illness - it meant he could die without fear or shame. Unfortunately, the treatments were successful and he was forced to live.
As the years passed by Jim started to reminisce about the home he left behind. He missed good old-fashioned burger and beer joints, cool North Carolina nights, and the sound of music wafting from various cars parked around a swimming hole. So, when Chris’ offer came, the incentive was too much for Jim to turn down. He knew exactly what had to be done and wasn't a bit squeamish about it. After he was smuggled out of the States, he killed two more men - one who was about to rape a little boy, and another who tried to stab him with a broken bottle. He also knew his target was dangerous, and that he couldn’t make a single mistake. But Steve’s plan was pretty damn good one, and with a little finesse and a lot of luck, Jim would be headed back home in a month or less.
Part IV * Conclusion