“Yes… sir.”
“Good, you remembered! I’m impressed. Now move.”
We moved out onto the road and about two-thirds of the way up the hill. There, we turned onto a small dirt road hidden from the highway by some recently planted saplings. It wound through the woods for about half a mile, ending in a small clearing dominated by a little country cabin. In front, a group of four men stood waiting, all but the largest armed with both rifles and sidearms. The exception was a huge Asian-Bruce Lee on steroids.
Frank stopped me about ten yards away. “Wait here. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay real still.”
He walked over to one of the armed men and held a whispered conference for a few minutes. Then the one Frank had been speaking to stepped forward. Incredibly, he actually stuck out his hand. “Good evening. My name is Larry Troutman.”
Real smooth customer. “I’d be happy to shake hands, Larry, but your man Frank has informed me that lowering my hands could be detrimental to my health.”
He clucked his tongue in apparent dismay. “Frank, don’t be so antisocial. Of course you can lower your hands, Mr.…?”
“Dawcett.”
“Mr. Dawcett. Fine. I can see that you’re going to be most cooperative, aren’t you?”
I guessed his smile was supposed to be reassuring. Unfortunately, it only brought to mind the “Inverse Law of Enemies,” the one that said the more civilly an enemy treated you initially, the nastier his ultimate plans.
I could already tell I was in for an extremely rough time. Nevertheless, I shook his hand. “I’ll cooperate as much as I can, of course.” I could play games, too.
His smile broadened. “Fine, fine. Now, would you be so kind as to hand me your wallet. Frank, what is that you’re carrying?”
Frank handed Larry my machete and Bowie as I pulled out my wallet. Larry tossed the machete aside, but examined the knife intently, turning it over and over. “Very nice. Custom made. This must have cost you quite a bit-” He stopped mid-sentence, noticing the maker’s logo on the blade.
“You made this?”
I shrugged.
“Quite impressive. A man of talent. I presume you have a sheath for it.” I unclipped it from my belt and handed it to him.
“Thank you, Mr. Dawcett.” He stuck the sheathed blade through his belt and opened my wallet to my driver’s license.
“Mr. Dawcett… may I call you Leeland?” He went on before I could respond. “I see you’re from Houston, Leeland. That seems a long way to travel on foot.” He looked at me pointedly. “Where is your car?”
I’d learned as a kid that the best way to lie was to tell the truth, withholding as little as possible. “I was riding a motorcycle, but some jerk in a Rabbit ran me off the road about ten miles back. I’ve been on foot ever since.”
“In a Rabbit, you say? Was it green, by any chance?”
I nodded. “You know him?”
Almost wistfully, he sighed. “We recently offered him our hospitality, but he declined our invitation. Frank, how long ago did he leave us?”
“’Bout an hour ago.”
Larry was sharp. He caught my blunder before I even realized I had made one. “You traveled ten miles in an hour on foot? Somehow, I find that difficult to believe.”
Motioning to the other three men, he sighed. “I believe Mr. Dawcett is being less than honest with us. Michael, Edgar, please restrain him.”
As they grabbed my arms, the one on my left that I assumed was Michael, yelped. “Hey! He’s packin’ somethin’ up his sleeve.”
Larry whipped out his pistol and aimed it directly at my right eye. “Why, Leeland, I’m very disappointed. And we were getting along so well. Carrying concealed weapons into a friend’s home is very bad manners. It indicates a certain amount of distrust, and that’s certainly no way to start a relationship.”
He shook his head, clicking his tongue in apparent disappointment. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to remove your jacket, Mr. Dawcett.”
When I hesitated, he thumbed back the hammer of his revolver. “Please.”
“Well, since you ask so nicely.” Two minutes later, they had me stripped to my underwear, my clothes in one pile, my toys in another. Larry uncocked his revolver as he knelt and examined them.
“Quite an interesting arsenal you have here. Karate?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t going to try to explain the differences in various martial arts just now.
“Frank, come here. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
Frank went over and squatted next to Larry. “Like what?”
“Like this!” Larry backhanded Frank with the barrel of his pistol. Frank dropped to the ground, stunned and bleeding. “What the hell were you thinking? First, you let that runt in the Volkswagen get away, and now this? Don’t you have any brains at all? God knows, I don’t expect genius-level brain work from you, but an occasional glimmering of intelligence would truly be appreciated.
“Let me spell it out for you, Frank. Bringing someone in here-in front of me! — bringing someone into my home without searching him first is stupid! He could have had an Uzi under that jacket for all you knew.”
Magically, the barrel of Larry’s revolver rested against Frank’s temple. “Perhaps there’s just no hope for you. I don’t think you will ever learn. Perhaps I should put an end to your miserable little existence.”
He cocked back the hammer again. “What do you say, Frank?”
Frank’s eyes widened until I thought they were in danger of rolling out of their sockets. “S-sorry… I’m sorry, Larry! I screwed up, I know. It won’t happen again, I swear!.. Oh God, oh God, oh God! Please, please, Larry!”
He was getting hysterical. Larry drew the moment out for a few more seconds, then stood and holstered his pistol. “See that it doesn’t. Now stop your sniveling and go get cleaned up.”
Frank scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the cabin. Larry turned his attention back to me, once again the urbane sophisticate. “Now, Mr. Dawcett, I would like some answers. What were you doing sneaking around in the woods here?”
I hesitated a moment. How should I go about this? He would undoubtedly kill me without a qualm as soon as my answers displeased him. And, I didn’t think he would be terribly pleased to learn I had lied. But I couldn’t tell him about Debra and the kids until I was fairly certain they were safely out of his reach. I had to draw him out and string him along. Then, just maybe, they’d get careless enough for me to risk attempting escape. “Okay, but it’s sort of a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” he replied. “Han,” naming the last, and by far the largest, man of the group. “Please get my camp stool and some rope.”
Han trotted back to the cabin. “Interesting fellow, Han. A true warrior monk-or so he says. My family sponsored his sister when she immigrated, and now he seems to think he’s indebted to me. Quite handy to have around. Never questions orders, so long as they don’t go against his beliefs.”
Han reappeared with the requested items. Larry seated himself on the little folding stool and watched as Han stepped up to me holding a short length of nylon rope.
“That really won’t be necessary.” Once my hands were tied, my chances of escape would be minimal.
“Possibly, Leeland. Possibly. But you’ve already proven yourself to be less than honest and,” he indicated the pile of weapons they had confiscated, “there is considerable evidence that you could be dangerous at close quarters. You’ll understand if we tend to be a bit cautious with you.”
Resigned, I held my hands out toward Han.
“No, no, you misunderstand.” Larry shook his head. “Behind your back, please.”
“But, Larry,” I quipped, “I thought we were going to be pals.”
For the first time, Larry frowned. “I’m afraid I have my doubts. Please, Mr. Dawcett, I dislike having to repeat myself. Turn around!”
Han didn’t give me another chance to hesitate, but spun me quickly around and secured my hands as
