Page 70 of Chubs

After a considerable amount of time, they meet back up at the car. I pull my cell out and shoot off a text to Les, knowing they have his phone.

Me: Tired of waiting. Where you at?

Les: Parking the car. You inside?

Me: Yeah and I’ve ordered.

I laugh a little when one bolts for the back door and the other rushes toward the front. It’s a short wait before both storms out the back door in frustration and return to the car.

Les: You’re not here.

Me: I’m at Antonio’s in Naperville. Where are you?

I watch as they talk and apparently come up with a Plan B.

Les: Meet me at Mom’s. We need to talk. Found some things out.

Me: Your mom’s or mine?

I know this throws them for a loop when they go back to discussion mode before answering.

Les: Yours.

Me: Okay but I can’t until morning. Got things to do later.

Les: Needs to be tonight.

Me: Can’t. Have breakfast ready when I get there.

As soon as they get inside my car, I prepare to move fast. I need to get to the bike, locate the direction they’re heading, and follow them. After they drive past my hiding spot, I push out and break into a run.

Back on the bike, identity hidden behind the helmet, I ride in the direction they drove. Splitting lanes and pushing my luck at intersections, I finally see my car a half block ahead of me. I tuck in behind a UPS truck and follow. Staying unseen becomes harder once they’ve turned into a residential area, but I manage it the best I can.

I take note of the street and appearance of the house they stop in front of before I ride past. It has safe house written all over it, and I should know. I spent time being moved from one to another years back, and they all have a similar feel to them.

Knowing where they’re at for the time being, I leave to locate a new hotel and to finish moving everything to it. Once I’m set up in my new location, I pull up maps and bird’s-eye views of the house and the areas around it. I do my research and come up with a plan of getting my little brother back. I’d like to accomplish it without bloodshed, but a lot of that will depend on them.

In the middle of the night, I find myself once again creeping around a sleeping neighborhood. Locating the house is easy, but it has cameras, and I didn’t have time to disable them. Worse yet, it most likely has alarms too. The only plus side is that the homes are further apart than in most neighborhoods, with the safe house set even further apart and on the corner.

My movements are detected by a neighbor’s dog, and he vocalizes it loudly. Swearing quietly, I step behind a tree and go still. The tree’s not large, but I’m hoping it’s dark enough that I remain unseen. After several minutes and some hollering by its owner, the dog quiets down.

Making it to the house undetected by its occupants, as far as I know, is tricky, but I am soon leaning against the back of it. Sliding along the wall, I peek into each window as I pass it. Most are covered with blinds, but people seldom realize that window blinds should have the slats turned up, not downward.

On the third window, I see what I’ve been searching for. I can see Alessandro, in the dim light from a nearby room, sitting on a bed, back against the wall. He’s handcuffed to the headboard in an awkward and uncomfortable position but alive. The light isn’t enough to see if he’s injured or not, though. I watch silently for a few minutes before lightly tapping once on the window. No response from my brother at all. I wait, then tap again. This time, his body jerks slightly, and he raises his head.

I wave my hand and know the second he realizes what woke him. Les raises his hands and holds up one finger before pointing toward the door of the room. I nod, understanding his communication, and check the window. It’s locked, of course, because why would they have made things easy for me?

I jerk in surprise when Les starts hollering loudly but soon realize he’s doing what he can to distract his captor. Claiming that he needs to use the bathroom, I know this might be our only chance to get him free. Keeping close to the house, I move again until I’m standing outside the back door. With a little luck on our side, the bathroom is located on the opposite end of the house from where I’m now standing. Pulling a few tools from my back pocket, I wait to see if Les succeeds.

I can hear muffled voices from within, but I can’t hear the words clearly. Hoping against hope, I attempt to pick the lock. It takes longer than it should, but the lock gives way, and I slowly open the door. Slipping inside, I listen for movement. What I do hear is Les and another voice arguing from the direction of the bedroom. Moving as carefully as possible, I ease that direction.

“How many times can one man piss in a day, you fuckwad?”

“Give me water, and this is the result, dick face,” Les growls back.

“Piss yourself. I don’t give a fuck,” the agent says with a laugh.

“Really? I’m pretty sure this would be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Opening yourself up to a lawsuit,” Les warns sarcastically.

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