“I'm in trouble!”
The statement drove away sleep from Henry's eyes as he sat upright, instantly awake. He checked his phone again and it displayed 2.17am. His brother's name, Marcus, flashed on the screen. His heart pounded from the ragged breathing and whispers that followed the disconcerting statement through the phone.
Marcus had always been the calm and brilliant elder brother, the CEO of their father's company who negotiated million dollar contracts without much help from him or any of their siblings. He was their go-to person when crisis struck and somehow always held their hands through them all.
“What happened?” Henry asked, his chest heaving. “Where are you?”
Marcus hesitated long enough for his brother to hear voices in the background, smooth and unfamiliar, discussing their latest contract.
“I…got a call after you left the office yesterday,” he explained, “to discuss the shipment to Norway. After dinner, they knocked me out and brought me to a private estate….Henry, they took my phone and are asking me to transfer ownership of the company…”
“What?”
“Yes! This will kill Dad.”
Henry started pacing his room. “Can you see anything? Hear anything so we know where you are?”
“I see a chapel with a blue roof from the window…but I'm not sure.”
“Good. We can work with that. I'll call Dad now,” he said, pulling on his shoes while opening his laptop. “Keep them talking, Marcus. Don't sign anything, leave—”
There was a gasp and grunt before the phone went silent. “Marcus!” Henry shouted.
Then a voice spoke. “Think you're smart, eh? You shouldn't have called anyone.” The scraping of a chair on the floor and Marcus' groans reached his ears. “Your brother sounds loyal,” the person said, “perhaps he should come and rescue you.”
The call disconnected, leaving Henry in a stunned state, his eyes wide and staring blankly at the wall.
He knew that voice….that accent…from way back in his university days. A group of Albanians that he had crossed in a deal gone wrong and believed he would never see nor hear from them again. How did they find him? Or rather his brother? He wondered.
A second later, his own front doorbell rang.
He pulled out his bedside drawer, grabbed his Glock, pressed a remote on his key chain and a corner of the floor creaked open, leading to a bunker underneath his house.
Once he was safely in, the front door burst open.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "I'm in trouble”.
Thank you for visiting my blog.
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