Chapter 45: The Raid
The days passed by. Elliot felt as healthy and as happy as he could without Sylvia. There was something to occupy himself every day and he was in the company of kind hearted people who made him feel good about himself. Sometimes he wondered if Sylvia was alive. He didn’t think it was possible. Even if she did survive she was probably in some Kylon jail where she would spend the rest of her days. One day he hoped to find out about her.
On the tenth day, there was a new guest at dinner. He was a trusted business associate of Mr Wagner. His name was Charles Rumsfeld. He owned one of the biggest bicycle distribution businesses in the United States. He was seated opposite Elliot at the dinner table. Mr Rumsfeld had fair hair and a moustache but was mostly bald on top. He had light blue eyes and was quite tanned. He looked to be almost fifty years of age.
“Charles and I go back two decades in business together,” Mr Wagner stated at one point. “Isn’t that right Charles?”
“Even longer than that I would say, Willie,” the business associate responded. “Tell me more about your friends. It is a long time since you had this many guests at your dinner table. I know so little about them.”
William Wagner was conscious that pictures of Elliot had at one stage been circulated in the US media. Instead therefore of using Elliot’s real name he referred to him as Nathan Humbridge, a young man exploring the world, who had fallen in love with the locality and Mr Wagner’s hospitality. It was also a sign that Mr Wagner did not have total and absolute trust in his business associate.
“What would you say is the highlight of all your travels Mr Humbridge?” Mr Rumsfeld asked turning to Elliot.
Mr Rumsfeld seemed to be scrutinising every change in Elliot’s facial expression. It was something that the young man disliked. He didn’t like being under the microscope at all.
“The Angel falls,” the fugitive replied in an attempt to be consistent with the information provided by Mr Wagner. He had never seen them but knew of them by reputation.
“Were they easy to get to?” Mr Rumsfeld said with a smile on his face.
Elliot wondered if the American businessman had been to the Angel Falls and whether he was hoping to trip up the young man. He had no option but to reply in a calm and confident manner and hope for the best.
“Where there is a way, Nate Humbridge will find it, trust me.” Elliot replied.
“What part of America are you from, Nate?”
Elliot had never concealed his accent. He wasn’t good at trying to disguise his own voice but believed that by choosing a state close by he might throw Mr Rumsfeld off the scent. “Arkansas,” he replied.
“And more specifically?” the businessman asked.
“A small village called Hapsburg. Hapsburg Arkansas.”
Mr Rumsfeld changed the subject but Elliot wondered whether he had done enough to dampen his suspicions. Later on, Ackbar tried to allay Elliot’s fears. The large Kylot expressed the viewpoint that Mr Rumsfeld was a decent man and Ackbar didn’t see what Elliot would be concerned about.
Elliot believed that Ackbar was the kind of guy that would trust anyone as long as they didn’t taunt him or throw stones at him. Only time would reveal if Ackbar was right or wrong.
Harold Becker, the Secretary of the Interior, beckoned a waiter to his table. Mr Becker had been specially appointed by the President himself to counter the threat of Changelings to the United States of America.
He was well dressed, wearing a plain white shirt, a blue tie with small red polka dots, and an Armani suit. Harold Becker was fifty-eight years old, he had dyed black hair that was combed back in straight lines. The politician was relatively slim for a man of his age and stood five feet, eight inches tall.
As head of the department Mr Becker oversaw his department’s own intelligence gathering operation whereby information was gathered from the general public, from the police, from the FBI and other organisations. This information was then funnelled into the Interior office who decided whether or not it should be acted upon. If it was to be acted upon, the elite force known to the general public as the Reapers, would be dispatched to investigate, arrest, interrogate or if necessary, kill the suspects in the interests of the State.
Mr Becker was seated at a table in Nino’s Restaurant on Sunnyside Avenue in Washington DC. Opposite him was an old school friend of his by the name of Charles Rumsfeld.
“Waiter, I’d like a Scotch Whiskey to start with. Charles, are you drinking?” the Secretary of the Interior asked aloud.
“I’ll just have a Ginger Ale,” the businessman replied.
The waiter made a mental note of the request and left the table.
“So Charles, how is your golf game these days?” the politician asked as he leaned forward and afforded a smile.
“I’m still playing off a four,” the businessman replied
“I must say, I don’t know what I am. Maybe a forty four if there is such a thing. We must get together for a round someday. Though I’d probably be stuck in the rough or in the carpark whereas you’d be waiting on the green.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Charles replied.
“Is there something on your mind Charles or is this just a chance to catch up on old times?”
Harold did always like to get to the point, the businessman thought to himself. It was one of his better traits.
“Well, Harold, I was in Mexico recently and I met a person that you might be interested in. At least, I think I recognised him as a young man who was wanted by the Reapers about a year ago or more. He went by the name of Nathan Humbridge but I do believe that his real name is Elliot Tomkins.”
“Tomkins eh?” the Secretary of the Interior said aloud as if he was mentally scratching his head. “That name does sound familiar. One of the few that got away. It’s hard with these fellows, always changing form, always in disguise. Where was he exactly?”
“You’ve met my associate, William Wagner before. He was staying in his compound. He had a number of guests. I expect the others are of his kin also.”
“Wagner eh? To be honest I don’t think he liked me very much. He was a bit of a liberal if you ask me.” Mr Becker said aloud as he seemed to be thinking the situation over and over in his head. “So, what do you want in return for this information Charles?” the politician asked finally.
“Nothing really,” the fair haired man said while failing to make eye contact. “Only, the next time a big job comes up it would be nice if I was considered. I always had a liking for politics.”
“He is a prominent business partner of yours, Charles,” the experienced politician said in a serious tone. “Isn’t it a little like shooting yourself in the foot.”
“I was thinking of selling the business anyway. I’ve arranged a deal with a Chinese company. They’re willing to pay top dollar. It’s a good time to get out. I can always work on my handicap.”
“And is there anything else you’re interested in Charles? Anything more substantial?”
“There’s an ornament in Wagner’s safe. It’s not worth very much. It used to belong to my Grandmother. It looks like an elephant on a round base painted in gold paint. It’s only about six or seven inches high. I lost it to him in a poker game. He keeps it hidden in his safe.”
“Tell me Charles that it is worth more to you than just it’s sentimental value. If you lose something in a card game it has to conceal some kind of hidden secret.” Mr Becker said as he made firm eye contact. “You’re not telling me everything now are you?”
The politician could not understand why someone would betray their business associate and longtime friend for a mere possibility of a government position and a worthless ornament.
“I’m telling you that it is nothing more than a cheap thrinket. My daughter want’s it back. You know I’d do anything for my family. She asked me about it several times in the past and I would like nothing more than to give it back to her.”
“Very well,” Harold Becker responded. His curiosity was piqued, but he was willing to be patient to see whether the object had any importance beyond its sentimental value.
The waiter returned to the table with their drinks. “Are you ready to order Gentlemen?” he asked.
Elliot Tomkins was rudely awoken by the sound of helicopters in the middle of the night. He looked at the clock. It was only 3am in the morning. It was a strange time for two or three helicopters to be landing in the dead of night, he thought to himself. He was so tired that he just wanted to go back to sleep. He laid back in bed once more and shut his eyes.
Suddenly a flurry of gunshots could be heard. This time Elliot hurried out of bed and quickly put on his clothes. Reapers, he thought to himself. They must be Reapers. He could also hear a lot of shouting and running around. He opened his bedroom door and looked out.
The young man could see two male servants running down the corridor to his left as if their lives depended on it. Elliot desperately wanted to be out of there but he had to locate his friends. Ackbar and Edita were sharing a room to Elliot’s right. The fugitive knocked on the door hastily. “Ackbar,” he called out several times.
The Kylot opened the door.
“What is it?” he asked
“I think its Reapers,” Elliot declared aloud with trepidation in his voice. “Can’t you hear the shooting?”
“Go save yourself and take Edita with you. It’s me they’re after,” he said turning into his natural form.
“I’m not leaving you,” Edita responded emotionally. In a short space of time she had become attached to the kind and gentle changeling. Because of him her quality of life had improved immeasurably and she didn’t want to lose him.
Elliot was feeling anxious. With each passing second the Reapers were getting closer. There was no time to waste.
“Come on,” Elliot responded. “Let’s all go.”
“No,” both Ackbar and Edita responded in unison.
Elliot couldn’t wait any longer and started to run down the corridor. In a matter of seconds a Reaper approached Ackbar’s room with his gun raised. He didn’t say anything but once he saw Ackbar he started to shoot without mercy. In a short moment Ackbar collapsed to the ground. Edita cried out, “no, you evil man, look what you’ve done.” The young girl leaned over the Kylot’s body with blood draining out of him. It was as if her whole life had collapsed in the blink of an eye.
The Reaper was not amused and dragged Edita down the corridor by her hand. He kicked in door after door as he did so. By the time he reached the fourth door, he was willing to concede that most if not all of the buildings occupants had by now run in an effort to escape.
Suddenly a baseball bat, clattered against his head and he fell to the ground. When Edita turned around, she could see Elisa standing over her. Elisa picked Edita off the ground and gave her a warm embrace.
When William Wagner heard the sound of Reapers approaching his first thought was to open his safe. There was three hundred thousand American dollars in cash lying there and an ornament which he had for a while now. He removed the ornament and one hundred thousand in cash and put it under his bed temporarily. The tycoon then dressed himself as quickly as he could.
William Wagner was almost fully dressed when a Reaper burst into the room. With his gun held aloft, the Reaper gestured for him to move to the centre of the room. The armed man then gestured with him to turn around. Once Wagner had done this the Reaper handcuffed him. The intruder then removed the contents of the safe into his cloak pocket and led the millionaire out of the room.
“What are you going to do with me?” Wagner asked.
The Reaper did not respond. Instead the captor lead his victim up the corridor from where he had come and up a stairway to the roof. Standing there were three more Reapers. Their leader looked at his subordinate and asked, “did you empty the safe?”
The subordinate then showed his leader the contents of his pocket.
“Where is the ornament?” he asked
There was no response.
“Where is Tomkins.”
Again there was no response.
“Go get Tomkins,” the leader said, looking at two of his three colleagues.
The leader grabbed Wagner on the shoulder and brushed him aside with great force. Wagner fell to the ground cutting himself on the face. “Where is the ornament?” he asked.
Wagner winced in pain but did not respond.
The Reaper kicked Wagner in the ribs. The pain was so great, that Wagner questioned the futility of his silence. It was inevitable that they would find it one way or another.
“It’s in my room, under the bed,” he said in pain.
The leader used a radio transmitter to confirm this to his colleagues. Wagner was sure that he had broken several ribs.
The leader waited for two minutes. Eventually one of his subordinates replied to him. “It’s not there,” one of them responded.
“Where is it?” the angry leader demanded, kicking him in the face.
William Wagner did not know whether to laugh or cry. Someone, whether it was a servant or someone else had evidently taken the sought after ornament.
“I don’t know,” he responded. “It was there. Someone must have taken it.”
This time the kick was to his stomach. Someone had the ornament, the injured tycoon thought to himself, but who?
Elisa and Edita were walking through a long underground tunnel that went underneath the castle to a cave along the coast. Elisa had remembered the tunnel from when she was a kid. She clung to the baseball bat in one hand and Edita in the other. Elisa didn’t understand the significance of the golden Elephant but she did know that it was important to its previous owner. She hoped that it was worth a lot of money.
The cave was almost completely dark and underfoot conditions were wet and uneven. They had to take their time, Elisa warned her companion. In the darkness the Reapers would not necessarily know their whereabouts. If they were to fall there was virtually no way that they could outwit their pursuers.
Even if they were to escape, Elisa wondered where on earth they could go. They were fugitives now, whether they liked it or not.
Elliot Tomkins was out of breath. He had been running for the best part of ten minutes. He had escaped the castle and had reached the perimeter of Mr Wagner’s golf course. Elliot climbed the fence and then decided to take a short break to catch his breath once more.
He felt a sense of relief that he now had a fighting chance of survival. He was sure that some if not all of his friends were either dead or captured. It was like hell on earth he thought to himself. The sound of gunfire continued even now. It sent a shiver down his spine whenever he thought about it.
He could not see very far in front of him even in the moonlight. When he glanced back at the castle he could see two helicopters which were perched on the top. He was afraid to look for too long in case it drew unwanted attention towards him.
Once more it looked like his world had been turned upside down. He had been given a shot at a happy and comfortable life with loyal and generous friends but now it had all been taken from him once more. He was a fool for thinking it would last. He hoped he was wrong and his comrades had survived but he didn’t believe they could be so fortunate. Once more he would have to keep running but without a Sylvia or an Ackbar this time.
After about forty seconds of a break, the young man decided that it was time to move on once more. He stayed close to the fence but moved as far away from the castle as he could. The terrain was dry but uneven. At one point Elliot tripped and fell. He picked himself up and kept running.
Suddenly the young fugitive could hear the sound of a helicopter taking off once more. He hoped it was leaving but was disappointed to discover that it was scouring the area for fugitives. It was time to hide. The young man tried to conceal himself behind a small shrub. He hid there, hoping that the helicopter and its occupants would not detect his presence. He tried to discreetly observe the helicopters movements as it hovered around the small town.
Eventually it moved towards the golf course. Elliot’s heart sank as it approached him. He hoped that it hadn’t detected him. There was no need to panic, he told himself, until he was absolutely sure.
The light was on him now and the helicopter had steadied its movement. Elliot did not panic. He wanted to be sure that they did see him. He waited until the helicopter landed before running as fast as he could. It was too late. He felt pain in the back of his upper right leg. The young fugitive fell to the ground. The events that followed were a haze. A tranquilizer dart, he thought to himself.