"My son?! There's got to be some mistake. I don't have a son," he paused, as if trying to figure it all out. Claire stood motionless in the corner of the room. Oh, no, she thought, it couldn't be.
Jonathan finally spoke. "Look, it's 8:45. We need to get over to the bank first thing. We'll look into this matter later." He approached Jennifer. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he tried to reassure her. "You and Claire stay here. If Rothenberg calls, tell him we're on our way." Jennifer nodded wearily.
Durenga watched as Jonathan and Conny exited the hotel and drove off in their rented Jaguar. He moved quietly up the stairwell to the Hart's room and listened at the doorway.
"Claire, are you OK? You're as white as a ghost," Jennifer said, concerned.
"Why don't you lie down. There's nothing we can do but wait."
"Jennifer, I...no, no, it couldn't be," she stammered.
Durenga slowly inserted the steel file into the door and made his entry with guile. The two women were not aware of his presence until he entered the livingroom.
"Well, well," he said, "I finally catch up with the lovely Jennifer Hart and her Aunt Claire."
Jennifer gasped and backed off toward the couch. Her mind was racing, unsure of where to turn or how to escape. Claire stood motionless, aghast at the resemblance.
"You!" Durenga called to Claire. "Get over to that chair. Sit down and keep your mouth shut. One stupid move and your niece is dead," he said patting the gun that was tucked into his jeans.
"I don't have the plans, if that's what you're here for," Jennifer said, frightened but angry.
Durenga laughed. "Oh, Jennifer, I'm not interested in the plans anymore. I've got more important matters to settle," he said darkly. "No...I'm here for something else...a little revenge you might say." Durenga walked over to Jennifer, eyeing her over with an evil grin.
"Revenge for what?" Jennifer asked. "What have we done to you? We don't have the plans - we never did. Why are you doing this to my father?" Her eyes were welling with tears, thinking about her father being held captive by Rothenberg.
"SHUT UP!" he said. Jennifer gulped hard as Durenga held his pistol to the side of her throat. "What's Jonathan's mobile phone number?"
"...555...2287," Jennifer stammered.
"Sit down and keep your mouth shut until I tell you you can speak," he said, dialing the phone on the coffee table.
Jonathan answered.
"Jonathan, bring the plans back to the hotel...or your wife will pay."
"Durenga?" Jonathan asked.
"Very good, Jonathan...you do have the plans now, don't you?"
Jonathan and Conny had just returned to the car after finding what they were looking for in the safe deposit box. Now Jonathan was faced with a new dilemma. If he didn't bring the plans to Rothenberg, Steven would die. If he didn't bring the plans to Durenga, Jennifer would…He couldn't even think it.
"We'll be there in about 15 minutes...How do I know Jennifer is all right?"
Durenga laughed and put the receiver to Jennifer's ear. "Tell your husband you're all right."
"Darling, I'm all right, but be careful, he has a -" Jennifer was interrupted with a slap. She cried out.
"Your wife needs to learn a lesson about speaking out of turn," Durenga said, his lips pursed. "You better be here in 15 minutes." He hung up.
Jonathan gulped hard, his gut wrenching in anxiety. It took only six minutes for him to reach the hotel.
By the time Jonathan and Conny had pulled into the parking garage, Durenga had Jennifer and Claire tied up. He had taken considerable pleasure in securing their wrists so tightly that they had winced in pain. The only thing that was distracting him was Jennifer's tears, which were falling silently, her head bowed in anguish.
Claire had remained stoic and detached during this episode. She was trying to assemble her recollections of that summer of 1952 - the summer she had given birth to a son. Conny had never known. She hadn't wanted to turn their worlds upside down, and so she did what she thought best at the time: She gave him up for adoption at St.
Theresa's
Parish. The nuns had promised that he was going to a good home. She didn't
want to
imagine what had gone wrong, terribly wrong.
She looked closely at Durenga's face. His black curly hair was much like Conny's in his younger days. The rest of him was unmistakably her - his hazel eyes, his long, delicate fingers (Claire's own father had been a master pianist), and his lean, muscular form. What she could not reconcile was his cruelty, his apparent delight in inflicting harm. The diabolical mind of the criminal before her kept her from embracing the reality that this man was her son - her flesh and blood.
What concerned her even more was Jennifer's safety. She noticed the way Durenga had been eyeing her niece. She also knew that he was getting desperate and seemed hell-bent on proving himself to Rothenberg...Matthew, that is. Claire pondered telling Durenga the truth, not that he would have believed her anyway, but she feared how he might react, given his present state-of-mind.
When Jonathan entered the room, he ran to his wife and held her face in his hands, assessing her for what damage may have been done. He could easily see the emotional pain that Jennifer was suffering. Durenga moved swiftly toward them and held his revolver to Jennifer's temple.
"Back off, Hart, and don't try anything stupid."
Jonathan looked into Jennifer's eyes with a look that told her how much he
loved her and that everything would be okay. He backed away slowly, sizing up the situation.
Conny stood near the doorway. "Hey, old man, get away from the door," Durenga said.
"Jonathan, here, tie him up on the sofa." Durenga pulled out a length of rope and tossed it at Jonathan. Jonathan unwillingly obliged.
"And now, Jonathan...the plans?"
Jonathan pulled out a cigar tin and placed it on the coffee table carefully, his eyes never leaving Durenga's. "They're in there," said Jonathan.
"Very good," Durenga smiled. "Now, what to do with you." Durenga looked around impatiently and then remembered the handcuffs that were tucked into his sock. He produced them swiftly and ordered Jonathan to back up against a post near the wall.
Within moments, Jonathan was secured with his hands behind his back.
"You'll never get away with this, Durenga," Jonathan spoke. "The Feds are crawling all over this place and if we don't come out soon, they'll be here," he lied.
Durenga peeked out the window hesitantly, and then looked back at Jonathan.
"What, do you take me for a fool?" he sneered. "Listen, I'm going to have the last laugh here." Durenga walked around the room looking closely at his prisoners. Claire was seated in a chair in the corner, watching Durenga silently with a saddened expression.
Conny sat on the sofa looking grim. Even though his eyes stared blankly ahead, his head followed every sound, as if trying to establish everyone's position in his mind's eye.
Jennifer remained on the other end of the sofa, her head bowed. Durenga's eyes followed her face down to her blouse, her waist, then her legs. His eyes glazed over and he seemed to have drifted, as if remembering another place and time. Jonathan watched carefully and suddenly spoke up to divert Durenga's attention from Jennifer.
"So, what's next, Durenga? You've got the plans. What do you need us for?"
Durenga became noticeably irritated. "I'm not here for the plans. That was
just a bonus." He walked closer to Jennifer and sat down next to her. Jennifer leaned away from him in disgust. "You know, Jonathan, what a lucky man you are?" he said smoothly, touching Jennifer's hair. Jennifer turned her head and looked pleadingly at Jonathan.
Jonathan stood silently, searching for the right words to keep Durenga at bay.
Right now,
his words were his only resource.
"You would be a lucky man, Durenga, if you took the plans and high-tailed it out of the country. I'm sure you could be half way around the world in no time."
"Don't tell me what lucky is!!!" Durenga roared. Everyone flinched. "I've
NEVER
been a lucky man. I've never had the good fortune that you had," he spat out. "But," he smiled, "today I'm going to have a little of your good fortune." He placed his gun on the coffee table and leaned over Jennifer, taking a fistful of her hair and tugging it so that she was facing him. He pushed her down. Jennifer struggled to sit up, but Durenga forcefully held her down. She cried out, "No, please don't!" Durenga seemed to enjoy her pain.
Jonathan struggled to break free of the handcuffs, but to no avail. He shouted, "Durenga! What about Rothenberg? He's going to come looking for the plans," Jonathan blurted out.
"I'll be ready for him," Durenga answered, never taking his gaze from Jennifer. He reached into his back pocket and produced a knife. Jennifer squirmed and tried frantically to break loose of the rope that bound her wrists, but Durenga's weight kept her pinned.
He took the knife and held it to Jennifer's neck.
Jonathan shouted, "Durenga!" He didn't know what else to say to stop him. He was powerless to help Jennifer and the sight of Durenga pressing his body against her enraged him.
Jennifer could feel Durenga's breath on her neck. She couldn't bear to look at him.
Never had she felt so vulnerable and frightened.
Durenga took the knife and slowly began cutting off the buttons on Jennifer's blouse one by one. As each button popped off, he peeled her blouse away, exposing the delicate, cream-colored camisole underneath. As he slowly pulled the straps down, the phone rang.
The jarring sound broke Durenga's concentration. Jonathan's heart quickened, and he silently gave thanks for the interruption. He prayed Durenga would answer it. It rang another five times. Finally, Durenga picked up the phone.
"Yes," Durenga said flatly.
"We're waiting...It's been almost a half hour. I presume you don't want to
see
your father-in-law again?" Rothenberg said.
Durenga laughed. "Do what you want with the old man. I've got what I want."
"Durenga?!" Rothenberg said.
"Yeah and guess what? I've got the plans and Jennifer Hart," he said,
satisfied with
himself.
"You'd better bring the plans to me right now, son. Remember everything I've done for you. I gave you a name. You'd be nothing without me. Bring me the plans and you can have Jennifer Hart to do with as you like - consider her your reward," Rothenberg said smoothly.
Durenga looked over at Jennifer, weighing his options. Finally, he spoke. "If you want the plans, come for them." He hung up.
Rothenberg sat back in his chair, clenching his teeth. Stephen looked at him nervously. He knew that things were not going as planned. He only hoped that Jennifer was safe.
"Come on, Edwards. We're going to see your daughter."
Durenga hastily took the cigar tin that contained the plans and tucked it into his pocket. Then he grabbed Jennifer's arms and pulled her up off of the sofa. He warned, "You make any trouble when we get out of here, and I will make you die a merciless death." He tugged her hard and made sure she felt the knife that was poised at her back.
Just as he led her through the door, Jennifer looked back at her husband whose face could not hide the anguish he felt. "Jonathan!" she cried out, but her mouth was stifled with Durenga's hand. In a flash, they were out the door and moving down the stairwell.
Return to Main Fan Fiction Page
