Nowhere to Run - Chapter 9

Michael ducked into a doorway and watched as Evie was thrown into the back of dark brown Ford.

“Bartholomew Long.” The site of the man sent ice water surging through Michael’s veins, giving him a chill that went straight through to the bottom of his soul.

Bartholomew Long, better known to the members of the Team as Black Bart for his black heart, was a nightmare. The man had no conscience. The Director sent him in only when circumstances were considered extreme. They must want him pretty bad to send in Black Bart.

And now the bastard had Evie.

Michael whispered a prayer for time. The tinted windows of the Ford prevented him from looking inside, but he had seen the fear and panic etched on Evie’s fine features when Bart grabbed her.  That image would be forever burned in his heart. If he didn’t get to her in time, he’d carry it with him to the grave.

As the Ford turned the corner, he ran for the old bug, wishing he had a more powerful car. Evie was right, the bug had not been one of his better ideas.   

Firing up the old Volkswagen Michael followed the Ford at a discreet distance while fighting the edge of panic that was trying to force its way into his mind. He knew he had to keep a cool head if he was going to be able to help Evie, but it was difficult. Never before had he experienced such a formidable grip of terror. 

“Black Bart, damn it! Why did it have to be that bastard?” Michael pounded the steering wheel and the whole car seemed to rattle. “Touch her and I’ll kill you.” 

     The brown Ford turned onto the interstate and picked up speed. Michael floored the Volkswagen and the car’s gears grinded. He was barely keeping up with the flow of traffic. The brown Ford disappeared around the bend.

     “Come on, old girl. You can do this. Don’t fail me now.”

     Backing off on the clutch, Michael popped the gears and the bug lurched forward. The car picked up speed and soon had the Ford in his sights again. A few miles up, the driver of the Ford flicked on the right blinker and Michael knew where they were headed.  Taking a chance he circled around and took the back roads, pushing the old VW to its limits to beat Bart to the safe house. Gambling on their destination. 

     Parking the car a few blocks away, Michael disappeared into the woods. He moved stealthily through the thick underbrush to a place where he would be concealed from the house and still have a good view of the driveway.

The medium sized colonial sat in the middle of two acres that backed up to woods.  It was a house they had often used as a base station while he was still with the Team. His bet was correct. The brown Ford pulled into the driveway just minutes later. 

This is good, Michael thought. He knew the layout of the house and the neighborhood. He even knew the alarm system, the special electronics room upstairs and those rooms in the basement. It was that one room in the basement that sent a ripple of fear through Michael. It was Black Bart’s habitat. A sound proof room used for interrogation. The fact that Bart was especially fond of his female victims was what scared Michael the most. Even when he was with the Team what had gone on in that small, airless, basement room could make his skin crawl. It was one of the reasons he knew he had to get out. The leaders of the Team were often inhumane in there tactics to elicit information.

He watched as the doors opened and Black Bart got out of the backseat with Evie.  He had her by the hair with one arm twisted behind her so she was forced to walk on tiptoes or risk dislocating a shoulder.  Two men in suits got out the other side of the car and scanned the area as Bart took Evie into the house. 

     Mentally, Michael sent a message to Evie to hang on, he was coming. He hoped that spirit he had seen in her eyes this morning would hold her for a little longer.

“Be strong Evie, be strong.”

Michael settled down and waited for nightfall. If he stormed the place now, they would be ready, waiting for him. The cover of darkness might give him a chance of getting the upper hand. He could only hope Bart wasn’t in a rush to get any information out of Evie. The fact that she had nothing to tell would just make it worse. Bart wouldn’t believe her and he took too much pleasure in the pain of those he considered helpless. Michael knew Evie’s delicate exterior would appeal to this evil man’s depraved senses. Bart would stretch out the suffering for as long as he could, taking pleasure with each awful bit of damage he inflicted.

Michael prayed for Evie. "Please Lord, keep her safe. Don't let Bart touch her, please, don't let him hurt her.” His voice was hoarse of fear.