thinking.”
“Listen, please don’t tell Mr. Show-and-Tell what I said. If it got back to my boss…well, like I said, I have kids.”
“It’s our secret, Mr. Carlito. Please, enjoy the presentation.”
Vincent Carlito tipped his beers to her and sauntered off to find a seat. Katherine turned back to the bar. “Give me another gin please Antoine.”
“But, you’re working.’”
“Just pour. You have no idea the day I’ve had.”
Warren Baxter cleared his throat behind the microphone and beamed his smile in the general direction of the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen… ”
The amber panels on the grand doors crashed open.
Baxter stammered as men clad in black rushed into the room. Masks covered their faces. Each was armed. The group poured into the room, filed through the crowd, and covered all points of entry.
Gasps from the crowd were followed by screams as more men entered from the service entrance, leading the cooking staff in front of them.
The immense room was filled to capacity.
“What is the meaning of…” Baxter’s defiant words were cut short by gunfire. Several of the intruders fired short bursts into the ceiling. One made his way to the dais.
Warren Baxter was roughed from his perch and thrown into the crowd. The figure in black said nothing. The rest of the force moved throughout the room and divided the crowd into two large groups.
Braver and drunker men in the crowd began to speak up, demanding answers, receiving blows to the head in reply. Most kept silent, complying with the gestures of the gun barrels. Rifle butts quickly silenced the dissention, and the groups were moved to separate sides of the room.
Katherine found herself in the smaller group, forced back, against the wall. The amber felt cold against her shoulders, and she was thankful that Antoine had already poured her that second gin.
She downed the drink. A hand on her elbow startled her. She turned to react but saw that it was Vinnie. He nodded slowly as he moved closer to her.
Silently, the intruders ushered the larger group from the room. No words were spoken. No demands given. Commands were delivered by the wave of a barrel. Katherine tried to look above the crowd in front of her.
Baxter was receiving especially terrible treatment. His hands were forced behind his head and the barrel of an assault rifle was placed in his back. His defiant voice surfaced again and he was driven to the ground. A knee was placed in his back and he was shoved to the ground.
Baxter grunted as he collapsed. A black-gloved fist dragged him back to his feet by his wispy strands of hair; he was forced through the amber-coated doors and into the hallway.
Katherine’s group was led through the staff entrance. Compliance was immediate. Shuffling their feet, each prisoner trying not to kick the heel of the person in front of them, the crowd begrudgingly moved from the beauty of the Amber Room and into the unknown.
EIGHTEEN
The water was briny and thick with the reclaimed dirt of the island. They slogged through the trench. Water rose and fell around them, ankle to waist.
Paul grimaced. “The smell is worse here. What is it?”
“Quiet,” Steve concentrated on moving silently through the murky water. Rocks and an uneven creek bed made the passage difficult. His foot slipped off a rock and he fell chest first into the water. “I think this may be slowing us down.”
“Look for a way out, then,” said Paul. “This wasn’t my idea.”
Loosely packed sand formed the walls of the ditch. Thick grass was the only thing holding the top of the ridge in place. The walls had gotten consistently higher and steeper as they had moved on, and it had not been long before they had any choice but to keep moving forward. They had heard nothing behind them. The entire island was quiet.
They took no comfort in this.
The wind had carried the roar of an explosion to them earlier, but they could only guess what had happened. Either way,
“Listen, please don’t tell Mr. Show-and-Tell what I said. If it got back to my boss…well, like I said, I have kids.”
“It’s our secret, Mr. Carlito. Please, enjoy the presentation.”
Vincent Carlito tipped his beers to her and sauntered off to find a seat. Katherine turned back to the bar. “Give me another gin please Antoine.”
“But, you’re working.’”
“Just pour. You have no idea the day I’ve had.”
Warren Baxter cleared his throat behind the microphone and beamed his smile in the general direction of the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen… ”
The amber panels on the grand doors crashed open.
Baxter stammered as men clad in black rushed into the room. Masks covered their faces. Each was armed. The group poured into the room, filed through the crowd, and covered all points of entry.
Gasps from the crowd were followed by screams as more men entered from the service entrance, leading the cooking staff in front of them.
The immense room was filled to capacity.
“What is the meaning of…” Baxter’s defiant words were cut short by gunfire. Several of the intruders fired short bursts into the ceiling. One made his way to the dais.
Warren Baxter was roughed from his perch and thrown into the crowd. The figure in black said nothing. The rest of the force moved throughout the room and divided the crowd into two large groups.
Braver and drunker men in the crowd began to speak up, demanding answers, receiving blows to the head in reply. Most kept silent, complying with the gestures of the gun barrels. Rifle butts quickly silenced the dissention, and the groups were moved to separate sides of the room.
Katherine found herself in the smaller group, forced back, against the wall. The amber felt cold against her shoulders, and she was thankful that Antoine had already poured her that second gin.
She downed the drink. A hand on her elbow startled her. She turned to react but saw that it was Vinnie. He nodded slowly as he moved closer to her.
Silently, the intruders ushered the larger group from the room. No words were spoken. No demands given. Commands were delivered by the wave of a barrel. Katherine tried to look above the crowd in front of her.
Baxter was receiving especially terrible treatment. His hands were forced behind his head and the barrel of an assault rifle was placed in his back. His defiant voice surfaced again and he was driven to the ground. A knee was placed in his back and he was shoved to the ground.
Baxter grunted as he collapsed. A black-gloved fist dragged him back to his feet by his wispy strands of hair; he was forced through the amber-coated doors and into the hallway.
Katherine’s group was led through the staff entrance. Compliance was immediate. Shuffling their feet, each prisoner trying not to kick the heel of the person in front of them, the crowd begrudgingly moved from the beauty of the Amber Room and into the unknown.
EIGHTEEN
The water was briny and thick with the reclaimed dirt of the island. They slogged through the trench. Water rose and fell around them, ankle to waist.
Paul grimaced. “The smell is worse here. What is it?”
“Quiet,” Steve concentrated on moving silently through the murky water. Rocks and an uneven creek bed made the passage difficult. His foot slipped off a rock and he fell chest first into the water. “I think this may be slowing us down.”
“Look for a way out, then,” said Paul. “This wasn’t my idea.”
Loosely packed sand formed the walls of the ditch. Thick grass was the only thing holding the top of the ridge in place. The walls had gotten consistently higher and steeper as they had moved on, and it had not been long before they had any choice but to keep moving forward. They had heard nothing behind them. The entire island was quiet.
They took no comfort in this.
The wind had carried the roar of an explosion to them earlier, but they could only guess what had happened. Either way,
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