Hunt for the Lost Treasure

Chapter 8 — Beware of the Camel's Nose

Two hours later, two hours after the fateful call had been placed to Dr. Nina Gould's home phone, a dark figure exited a large vehicle only two houses down from her residence. It was time to scoop her up and Beck was ready to get it done swiftly and with as little commotion as possible. In his gloved right hand he held a bottle of chloroform, clutched tightly as he watched Nina park her car. It was dark and foggy, perfectly set for what he was planning.

The private investigator in him now stepped aside for the covert enforcer, and as Nina stepped onto her porch, fumbling with her keys, he moved quickly through the hazy ghost of the street light in front of her house. Waves of mist clouded his stealing shape as he turned onto the walk and crept up, hastening so that she would not leave him locked out once she’d entered. Beck had to move faster, resorting to a crouching jog as she opened the door.

Rapidly his footfalls sped up to make it in time. Surely she would notice her assailant and no doubt scream if she saw him in the bright porch light before he could seize her. Thanks to the weather conditions of the evening, Beck could not fail to apprehend Dr. Gould before she knew what hit her. But this was no average woman he was trying to capture. Unlike previous missions, where his targets were to be seized alive, and mostly, unharmed, Beck did not realize that such an apparently harmless lady could be so alert to her surroundings.

Feeling something amiss, she turned to survey the path that led from the car to the porch, finding his large silhouette right there, much as the priest towered in black on the very same porch in the very same way. Beck was met with a taser, shoved hard into his inner thigh.

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” he groaned just before the voltage was pushed through him. As he lost control of his bladder, the electrical surge of the device ripped through his nervous system and shut down any muscular function he thought he had.

What she did not know, however, was that her stalker had been trained by Special Forces and was not particularly susceptible to the perils of most weapons unless they involved some sort of explosive. He collapsed from the momentary disruption in his brain, but he was far from knocked out. Unlike an untrained man, he would soon again wake… and he promptly did. Beck mumbled a torrent of curses as he strained to recover in as little time possible. On his knees, groping his thigh, Karsten's private investigator moaned under the veil of floating fog that traversed the yard and the eerie house's stoop.

Inside the dark house he could hear the din of panic ensue. In fact, he could trace her movements by the noise she was making. Beck smiled. “Not so easy, hey, sweetheart? Now you have just pissed me off.” He stumbled to his feet and disappeared off the side of the porch to make his way to the side of the old nine-bedroom house.

Since he’d discovered where Nina lived, Beck had been doing his homework on every corner and niche of the building so that he could stalk better, track better and sweep her off comfortably. Frankly, he probably knew Nina's house better than she did. Still fighting off the hideous numbing sensations in his skin and his disabled motor skills, Beck knew he had to get to Nina before she could call for help. He had already cut her home phone line, so he slipped around the back where there used to be a makeshift trapdoor used by the previous owner, the reputed warlock, who had actually been actually just an experimenting physicist.

Gaining entry through the rotten wood of the hidden door, Beck quietly stalked up the steps of the basement and used his lock pick tools to dislodge the padlock stay. Every few seconds he stood still, listening to her movements in the darkness.

“You can keep the lights off, darling,” he whispered as he propped up the kitchen trapdoor. “I don't need any lights to navigate your little maze.” Beck's heart had jumped once before when she sent electricity through him, but now his rapid heart rate was caused by his defiant quarry, rousing his rage by the audacity she displayed. He did not mind a challenge, but being pained in this way humiliated him and that elevated Nina Gould to a higher punishment scale in his book of rules.

Adamant on delivering her reprimand with some physical infliction, Beck raced to the bottom of the corridor where he could hear her trying to dial from her cell phone. The light of the screen betrayed her position and in no time Jonathan Beck had caught up with her, grabbing the phone from her hand. Swiftly he followed up with a self-rewarding punch to her pretty face, catching her limp body before she could hit the floor.

“And dressed for the occasion too,” he grinned as he pulled the hood of her sweat suit over her head to avoid identification when he carried her out. He endeavored the arduous task of searching for her bag, but ultimately realized that it was probably still in the lobby at the front door where she must have dropped it to the floor after retrieving her phone.

And Beck was correct. Her bag was lying on the wooden floor a few inches from the front door. With her body dangling over his shoulder he quickly picked up the strewn contents and lightly booted the hissing cat out of the way before leaving the house as dark and quiet as it had looked through his binoculars.