Chapter Four
“Davy,” Mike rasped. “Davy, you ok—you alive?”
“Bloody . . . hell . . . that . . . hurt!”
“No kiddin’,” Mike said. “Think I like the cane better.”
“I’ll have . . . the poker . . . anytime.”
“Davy, only way we’re gonna get outta here is if we survive until Peter an’ Micky find us. We gotta hang on, okay?”
“Okay . . . Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“How’re they . . . g-gonna find . . . us?”
“I don’t know,” Mike said, resting his cheek against his aching arm. “But they will. They have to.”
Davy sighed. “I hope so . . . ”
~~~~~
Micky was pacing in the living room, working off some nervous energy. Peter sat by the phone, a gargoyle poised to pounce as soon as it rang.
Micky finally stopped and whirled to Peter. “This is ridiculous! We’re just sitting here waiting for something to happen!”
“What alternative do we have, Micky? Run out the door and into the night hoping that maybe in a city of millions we might find a clue? Read that note over and over until it’s burned into our brains?”
“We have to do something! Mike and Davy could be hurt or dying!”
“We don’t know that!” Peter snapped. “Look, maybe it was just a dream, okay?”
Micky blinked. “Peter, listen to yourself! You know that when we have dreams like this they’re not just dreams! What about the time we dreamed about Angelina and El Diablo! What about that, huh? Why was that dream real and this one isn’t, huh?”
“Because I hope it’s not true!” Peter roared, leaping off the couch. Micky took a step back, a ripple of uneasiness passing through him from the grave, furious look on Peter’s face, a look that made him appear old and tired. “Look, we called Bennett and Liang,” Peter said, his voice soft once more. “Hopefully they’ll be able to come up with something. The police won’t do anything until they’ve been missing for twenty-four hours, and to be honest . . . I don’t know if I’m comfortable calling them.”
Micky looked at him. “Why?”
“Because they might take an undue interest in us,” Peter replied, voicing a fear that they all secretly held. “We already have enough trouble from Mistress and her minions—we don’t need a suspicious police force breathing down our necks.”
Micky chewed on his lip for a moment. “Peter, I’m gonna explode if I stay here. Let’s . . . let’s go walk the same way they went. We’ll call Bennett and Liang when we get back . . . please.” He spread his hands. “If nothing else, it’ll make me feel like I’m doing something!”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know which way they went? I don’t. We could be going in the wrong direction!”
He nodded. “I saw them pass by the kitchen windows when I got out of the shower. I wasn’t paying much attention, but I do remember seeing that.”
Peter stood up. “All right, but I don’t see what good it’ll d—” He stopped, his mouth dropping open.
“What?”
“The CIS! We know the head of the CIS! He has the manpower to help us!”
Micky’s eyes shone for a moment, then faded. “But he said he wouldn’t get involved with us again.”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t get involved with us. That he wouldn’t interfere with us. Not that he wouldn’t help us.” Peter’s expression hardened. “And considering the two times he and the rest of the CIS got us into it, I think he owes us one.”
“Call him . . . then let’s go walk.”
Peter picked up the phone and dialed Honeywell’s number; for whatever reason he’d memorized it long ago. After several rings a voice answered. “I’d like to speak to Chief Honeywell, please. Yes. My name’s Peter Tork. Yes. Yes, that Peter Tork. I—he isn’t? Well—yes, I know it’s late, but this is an emergency.” He explained the situation. “We were just wondered if your agents could keep an eye out. And . . . if they see anything suspicious let us know. Oh, okay. Thank you.” He hung up with a sigh.
“Ah, the lovely wheels of bureaucracy,” Micky sighed. “When they’re not running over you, they’re grinding so slow you can hear them.” He made a squealing sound.
“Honeywell’s not in yet. That was his assistant. He said he’ll have to get official approval, but apparently Honeywell left orders that if we ask for help we’re to get it. He said he’ll notify the agents in the city to keep an eye out. Hopefully that’ll help.”
~~~~~
Their torturers returned once more that night. Mike and Davy were released from their standing positions and forced to their knees, their arms tightly bound behind their backs and secured to the rings in the floor. Ropes were roughly tied around their necks and secured from the ceiling, forcing them to hold their chins up; if either one relaxed even the slightest bit and tried to sag to the floor, the ropes would choke them. “Pleasant dreams, boys,” Dragonman taunted as they left, sealing the Winds into darkness.
On to Chapter Five
Back to Chapter Three
Back to Secrets and Lies Index
