"I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can." -Ernest Hemingway

“The only living works are those which have drained much of the author's own life into them.” –Samuel Butler

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Running Out of Time (Part Four)


            Inspecting the room, Carmen glanced at the camera swiveling for surveillance and noticed a slender cord, which was painted the same color as the walls to disguise it. Proud of her observation, Carmen asked, “Could I use your bathroom?”
            “Oh, yes. It’s down the hall, last door to the right.” Mrs. Wellington instructed.
            “Thanks.” Carmen left Mrs. Wellington to follow the track of the cord to its source.
            Passing through the kitchen, Carmen subtly grabbed a knife and slipped it in the sleeve of her soiled jacket, just as her father had taught her when she was young…
            “Is that how you do it, daddy?” Carmen’s innocent voice asked.
            “No, honey, it’s more like this.  Watch closely to what I am doing.” With skill and precision, Carmen’s father picked an item out of her pocket, which she didn’t feel being taken.
            “Wow, daddy! You’re so good at this. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get it right.” Young Carmen couldn’t stop a small tear from rolling down her face because of her disappointment in herself.
            Her father tenderly wiped away the tear rolling down Carmen’s cheek. “Carmen, dear, don’t worry. You will catch on. It just takes some practice.”
            Carmen shook her head to dislodge the memory. She had no desire to relive the times she had spent with her father, when he taught her all his tricks for being a criminal.
            Continuing to follow the path of the cord, Carmen constantly glanced at the cameras to find their blind spot.  She traced where the cord led, until it disappeared into the wall.  Stopping, she held the knife and began to saw the wires.
            As she worked, Carmen contemplated if a burst of electricity could fry the circuit in the explosive wristband she was wearing. Tempted to try it, she forced herself to remember that it could backfire and detonate instead.
            Breaking through the wires to the cameras, Carmen quickly turned and calmly rushed back to the room with the Qianlong vase. When she reached it, she was surprised to see Mrs. Wellington absent. She’s probably already been alerted to the security treat, Carmen thought.
            Quickly, Carmen grabbed the vase and moved to the window. Recalling the security system, she gently set down the vase and took the time to open the window rather that break through it.  Slipping out of the opening, she looked from side to side, hoping not to find any guards lurking.
            Picking up the vase again, she sprinted to her awaiting car and jumped in, “Go now!” Carmen commanded.
            Looking back, Carmen saw a swarm of guards charging toward the idle car. All the guards swiftly pulled out their firearms and started peppering the car with bullets. Ducking in her seat, for fear of getting hit, she eventually noticed the car was equipped with bullet-proof glass. “I should have guessed.” Carmen mumbled to herself.
            As the driver sped away from the house, the phone chirped a happy little melody. Grudgingly, Carmen answered, “I got your stupid vase.”
            “You made good time, ten minutes to spare. Truly, I didn’t think you could do it.”
            “Oh, thanks for the reassurance, scumbag.” Carmen’s anger got the better of her and she couldn’t hold her words back.
            “I wouldn’t talk like that if I was you.” The voice warned. “Don’t forget I can have you killed with just the push of a button.” Carmen heard the pride in his voice at the power he held over her. “Now, I need you to look at the vase to find some sort of etching your father carved into the vase.”
            Curious, Carmen had to know, “How do you know all this?”
            “A little security birdie from your father’s house.  It was really quite easy to loosen a few lips when the right price was negotiated.” Once again the voice rang through the phone with pride of his devious accomplishments. “Get to your task.”
            The line abruptly went dead.

To Be Continued…

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