Natalie Montrose spread the fake smile she reserved for annoying customers she didn’t like across her features. The twenty-four year old developed a bad case of the creeps whenever she came near the man across the bar. She didn’t know why, but there was something off about him. “I’ve heard your resume before, Pence. I’m glad you’re doing well, but I have a boyfriend.”
“Not like me,” Pence said, pushing the change back at Natalie. “Keep it. Think about it. I’m not going anywhere soon. You and I could have a lot of fun together.”
“I’m sure we could, but I really do have a serious boyfriend, and he’s the jealous type,” Natalie lied. “Thanks very much for the tip.”
Didricson watched Natalie move to another customer at the bar, his eyes narrowing. The familiar tightness, rejection of any kind caused, gripped him in a fist clenching moment. Pence relaxed, recovering with a large gulp down of his drink, while checking his watch. It read nearly 11 pm. He glanced at Natalie once more, thinking he would settle with her one night after closing, when no one was around. She would learn all about fun. No one would miss one more bimbo behind the bar.
He finished his drink, and walked out of The Ghost Riders Tavern. There had only been two other customers, which was normal for a late Monday night. He unlocked his BMW using his remote. Didricson suppressed instant annoyance at the fact he was boxed in by two other vehicles in a nearly empty parking lot. Cursing as he slipped through the small opening possible without his door hitting the car next to him, Didricson’s lanky form settled in comfortably. Pence ran his hands through his long blonde hair with only a hint of receding hairline, while checking his appearance in the lighted mirror.
“You look lovely, Pence,” a voice said from directly behind him, as Didricson felt a sharp stabbing pain in his neck. “What… the hell?” Black shadows swept over his consciousness. An irresistible numbness seeped into his suddenly unmovable limbs. “Why?”
“Because you’ve been a very bad boy,” the voice informed him. It was the last sound he heard for hours after.
*
Nick reached to the side of the BMW’s driver’s seat. He used the switch to power the seat all the way back, and then did the opposite to the passenger seat, leaving him enough room to slide onto Didricson’s lap. After tilting the wheel all the way upward, Nick fastened the seat belt, started the car, and drove away, stopping only when he reached the darkened outskirts of Los Alamos. John parked at an angle behind him, hiding the trunk from view. Seconds later, Didricson had black plastic garbage bags over his five foot, eight inch frame, one over his head, and one drawn up over his legs with his mouth, arms, and legs duct taped. Nick added duct tape around the bottom, center, and chest high bag positions. Only then did he tear a breathing area around Didricson’s nose. He hit the BMW trunk release. John and Gus helped him throw the bound body inside the trunk.
“Drive carefully, guys – not too slow, and not too fast. I’ll wait ten minutes before I follow. I don’t want us to look like we have a convoy.”
“Payaso doesn’t know how to drive any other way,” John remarked. “He’s driving home, so you have nothing to fear from us other than driving boredom, Muerto.”
Gus clipped John in the back of the head as he stumbled toward the passenger side of their vehicle. “Smartass!”
“See you in the Valley, guys,” Nick said. “John’s right, Payaso. Not too slow, Grandma Gus.”
Gus flipped him off without comment, and a moment later drove away as Nick entered the BMW once more. So far, so good, Nick mused, noticing he would have a few hours if they made it home shortly after 3 am to find out if he only needed one interrogation session. “I think I’ll open you for interrogation in my special room. We’ll even put our costumes on with the light show, and eerie music for you, Pence. You’ll love it… at least for a few moments, when at last you’ll realize the special room will be the last place you ever visit. I do hope you’re smart enough to blurt out the truth for me. I might get a few hours of sleep before the Feds come knocking on my door.”
Nick continued to talk with the unconscious Didricson most of the way home. By the time he reached his place in Carmel Valley, John had turned on the spotlight shining on the entrance to the hidden below grounds subbasement interrogation area. Nick and his crew made sure they didn’t make any permanent paths forming to the stand of trees where the entrance was located. Nick had installed a decorative Gazebo structure half way between the house and his subbasement, so he could have a stone pathway part way to the subbasement. Nick drove the BMW into his garage, and John closed the door.
“Hi guys.” Nick popped the trunk. “We made good time. I was telling Pence we would be getting into costume in my special room for him. I explained to him I had been informed by my US Marshal pals of definite threads linking him with both Sadun and Formsby.”