Bomer Beware

Chapter 1: Special guests

The loft was mostly dark except for the dim lights from the abandoned street below. The nightclub beneath had closed it's doors hours earlier and it too was dark but not deserted. A man sat in front of a small hand held screen, and had been there for several hours waiting for the opportune moment to put his well though out plan into action. The screen contained a bed in a dark room with a man soundly sleeping. He had been there for almost two hours, though almost 30 min. earlier, he had opened his eyes to look around the room and then go back to sleep This did not alarm the man watching the screen. It just made him smile.

Michael lay sleeping on his not so comfortable bed. He had thought many times about replacing it, but never actually took the step. For him it would be like putting down roots in a place he felt trapped in. It would have signaled the beginning of defeat for him. The bed would do for now. After all, he had slept in worse places than this, though never for quite such a long time. He had always been taught to sleep, sleep anywhere you can and when ever you can. It had been a hard lesson learned over and over.

His evening had been busier than most, so had the last five days and his body felt it. He was exhausted and a good sleep today was all he was in the mood for, though Fiona had other plans. It had taken all he had to convince her that tonight was not the night, at least for them. So tonight he slept soundly and alone.

The man watching the screen paid close attention the occupant of the bed's eyes. They had begun to move 15 min earlier, indicating REM sleep and the deepest he would get at least for the next 30 min. Time to put his gears in motion. He pressed the button on his remote and began the process. Two days earlier precautions had been made. The lock on the front door had been drilled into and a metal explosive had been added that would effectively melt the lock. This would jam the front door. It would be too hot for him to touch, and when it cooled, impenetrable.

An exterior bolt had been added to the two side doors and the windows sprayed from the inside, for privacy with a resin designed for Florida Hurricane season. The resin had an odor, but a small controlled electrical fire on the occupants old and decrepit refrigerator hid any odor. Michael had simple put out the fire, repaired the damage and went back to eating his yogurt. He had not noticed.

Beneath the bed lay a canister, as well as several others hidden behind storage items. As he depressed the button, the canister opened releasing the concoction of Chloral Hydrate and tear gas. The door lock began it's burn.

The pop from the canister was enough to wake Michael and then the second louder explosion put him on high alert. Reaching for the gun under his pillow, he stood. His arms stretched forward, gun at the ready. He circled the room blinking his tired eyes, all too aware of the impending gas filling the room. When it was clear that there wasn't anyone standing close by he shoved the gun into the belt line of his pajamas, wrapped a pillow case around his mouth and headed for the double doors. He found them locked from the outside.

"Damn" he said out loud.

The other would be to he thought coughing through the gas that was getting thicker. Picking up his favorite chair he threw it at the windows in the doors. The chair bounced back slamming into his shin.

His mind raced, this was professional, this was a hit or an extraction. An extraction was more likely. He was in trouble.

Pulling his gun out again, he aimed it at the window and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Just a click. When had he last fired his weapon? He had cleaned it a few days ago, it had been here along with all this other stuff. They had altered it. Whoever they were?

The gas was thicker and choking him, feeling dizzy he knew that he was running out of time. Taking his phone off his beside table he dialed Sam. No service. They had thought of everything, just about. Going to memo on his phone, he typed in EXTRACTION and slid the phone under the bed dialing Fi and sending.

Looking up he climbed the stairs as the gas rose with him. The last alternative he thought; the roof. He knew it wouldn't be safe, but he had to chance it. He had tried everything else. The smoke was getting to him, his eyes teared and he coughed frequently, There was something different about this tear gas, something added, he was getting foggy he could feel it. If this continued, he feared he would lose consciousness. He had been exposed to tear gas on multiple occasions, but never felt like this. It was better to confront an attack than to be taken asleep.

At the top of the stairs he paused and waited. No movement on the roof. Then his eye caught site of the massive fan on the back wall. He had only used it a few times, once after a kitchen fire and once after a failed Fi compound mixture. The fan was a vent, it would clear the room of smoke in just a few minutes, it would give him time.

The on button was at the top of the stairs and it looked intact. No extra wires that he could see. He depressed the red button and it whirled to life. Mike smiled and thought about his next move. C4 was still in a drawer below. He could blast the back door or set up a perimeter of explosions until he could get out. They couldn't keep him inside forever.

Just as he finished his thought, he heard the pop and fizz behind him. The engine on the fan blew, smoking as it ground to a halt and a new gas canister popped on the same wall spewing more into the air and another below him. Why hadn't he noticed them? He was tired when he arrived home, but that was a mistake.

"Damn"

Looking up again, he headed for the roof. He had done this before. It would be easy, except this time he was exhausted. His muscles weakened by what he was breathing in. At the top he pushed open the roof tile and he heard the click.

"Mr. Westen so nice of you to join me." The voice said from behind him.

Michael closed his eyes he had no choice.

Michael climbed out breathing hard and coughing. His eyes burning.

The man laughed. "Did you enjoy that as much as I did. I can't decide if I liked the part when the fan came on, or the part when it turned off the best. You must have made a face to post on the web."

"Too bad you didn't get a picture of it." Michael said sarcastically.

"You are right, you are right but we do have the video. It's a great view of your bed. Ms. Glenanne might not agree.

Michael shot back to a memory of 3 nights earlier when Fi had stayed, at least for most of the night. They had been watching him for at least that long and this was their first contact. Patient and prepared.

"So you know my name, care to share yours?"

The man smiled. "It really won't matter that much, but if you must, since we are sharing, it's Mintor."

"Davis Mintor?" Michael shot back. "I heard you were dead, killed with your own bomb."

"Obviously tales of my demise were greatly exaggerated, by me of course." He laughed." Some times you need a clean slate just to start again, especially in our business."

"Our business. From what I hear, you like to blow up people for money. I, on the other hand tried to give people money not to do that. Not really the same thing."

"It sounds so harsh when you say it like that, but enough reminiscing. If you would be so kind, I need you to put these hand cuffs on." Removing them from his pocket he gently tossed them to Michael. "Now I know in your hands, that they can be a powerful weapon, but trust me when I say we have taken great precautions to come here. Let me show you."

The man turned the screen he had been watching towards Michael and clicked a switch.

"Does that person look familiar?"

Michael ground his teeth together and squinted his tearing eyes hoping that he had seen the screen incorrectly. There on the small screen was his mother. Lying peacefully on her side, curlers in her hair. He knew what he was looking at.

"Is it under her bed?"

"Very good, you do know me. Yes, you are correct. Enough to take out most of the room she is in."

"She has nothing to do with this." Michael said angrily.

"Of course she does, don't lie to your self Mr. Westen. She is leverage."

"Leverage for what?"

"That we will be discussing in the next few hours. Now if you don't mind, just slid those cuffs on."

Michael did as instructed while he continued to watch the screen.

"Tighter Mr. Westen, we wouldn't want an incident now would we."

"OK they are tight, now what?"

"There is a ladder over there on the south wall, your going to climb down. I will be right in front of you, so no funny stuff. At the bottom is a pair of leg cuffs, you will put those on and the hood next to them."

"I am not going anywhere until I know that the bomb under my mothers bed has been dismantled. Now you can shoot me, or simply blow her up, but I'm not going anywhere."

In a losing confrontation and hostage situation, you must take some control. They haven't gone this far to go home empty handed. At the very least you hope you are correct.

"Mr. Westen, I have no intention of blowing up your mother as long as you follow my instructions, but I am on a strict well thought out schedule and I don't have time for delays. I won't stand for them. Now go down that ladder."

Michael stood his ground.

His captor moved closer and raised his gun from the downward position to his thigh and fired. The bullet ripped through the side of Michael's thigh as he crumpled to the rocky surface of the roof.

Michael grabbed the wound hoping to stop the bleeding with his tied hands, pushing his finger into the opening and suddenly feeling dizzy for it.

The mans face had changed from the earlier smile.

"I don't like threats Mr. Westen. Actually I hate them and won't stand here while you try it. I have no problem shooting you in the brain and being done with it. Now get down that ladder any way you can and follow my instructions to the letter or that screen image of your mother will be your last image and hers."

Michael had thrown the dice and lost, now he hobbled over to the ladder. The man went down ahead of him, a back pack of equipment on his shoulder. Mike slid his good leg over and eased the injured leg next to it. It was smart to tie his hands, It stopped him from sliding down and taking out his captor.

At the bottom Mike did as he was told except he ripped a strip from the bag designed to go over his head and tied it tightly over the wound on his leg before slipping it over his head.

The burlap bag smelled of a chemical compound and as he was pushed towards a waiting vehicle, the smell filled his nose and he realized why it was familiar; he knew it would put him to sleep in just a few minutes.