Timmy

CHAPTER TWELVE: RESCUED

CHAPTER TWELVE: RESCUED

On the stage, Brandy and John Stravis listened intently as the children told them everything they knew and had discovered. Inside the basement, Mr. Stone, knowing that time was against him, quickly carried Timmy down a long hall towards the rear entrance with the three bouncers behind him as Jeff and Jason taking the rear. The two boys kept a sharp eye on Stone and his men, ready for anything. They were not however ready to be struck from behind. Jeff was first to be hit; he winced, instinctively raising his arms in defense before silently slumping to the floor, unconscious. Startled, Jason spun around but not fast enough as the butt of a gun made contact with his jaw. The blow sent him stumbling into the wall before he slid down to the floor, out cold. Standing behind them was a tall wiry man whose face seemed carved out of stone with cold, swift calculating eyes and a powerful square jaw. Its only flaw was a small but deep scar across the chin which trembled in disgust at the unconscious boys.

“I would have preferred to kill you two where you stand!” Hatefully, he hissed. “I still owe you for scarring my perfect face!”

“What are you doing here, Moro Cruel?” Spinning around, Wayne demanded.

Moro huffed then motioned to Jeff and Jason. “Lock them in one of the store rooms.  By the time they come to and make their way out, we will be out of reach and that… boy will no longer be an issue.”

“I still have a few loose ends to tie up.” Gruffly, Stone remarked. “There is a girl who has seen too much; she will be trouble.”

Max and Wayne took the boys by the legs and dragged them away as Moro walked up to Stone, his face expressionless. “Then I suggest you give the boy to me and get it done.”

Albeit reluctantly, Stone handed Timmy’s unconscious body over to Moro who carried him out the side entrance. Outside was a large truck, loaded with prop furniture and drug lab equipment idling in front of the side delivery entrance. “That brat has been a thorn in our sides for far too long, Cruel.” Angrily, Stone warned. “If he escapes from you…”

Cruel pointed an accusing finger at Stone. “You just worry about tying up your loose ends, Stone. If you get caught, you will become a loose end to me, understand?”

Stone took a slight step back but recovered in the next breath. “I’m not the one who got my but kicked by two little orphan boys.”

Moro growled, his eyes flaring in anger then turned to the three bouncers as they walked out the side entrance. “We must hurry; this place will soon be swarming with people, including reporters and the police!”

Moro gently placed Timmy onto a sofa inside the truck and sat next to him with a sidearm at the ready as Max stepped into the driver’s seat. Wayne and Al both threw Timmy a hateful look then closed the rear doors and joined Max in the cab of the truck where he drove it out of the side lot.

Inside the truck’s interior, Moro moved a strand of hair away from Timmy’s eyes with the barrel of his gun. “Sleep soundly, boy; you will soon get a very rude awakening.”

  At that moment, Jeff moaned then opened his eyes before bolting up right and frantically looked around. He spotted his brother lying next to him who moaned as well and opened his eyes. “Timmy!”

“We got jumped, bro.” Fighting tears, Jeff said.

Jason was on his feet in the next breath, his fists clenched as he breathed heavily in a mixture of frustration and rage. “Then we got to jump back! Come on, Jeff!”

Jeff nodded and scrambled to his feet; a similar fire igniting in his eyes as he and his brother both kicked the door side by side. The storeroom door flew open with the dead bolt falling to the floor and the two boys ran out into the hall. Their jaws were locked with clenched teeth as they looked about for Stone and his men. Hearing the sound of an engine, they raced down the hall, through rear entrance to find the truck quickly pulling out of the side lot.

Jason cursed; jumping over the railing of the loading platform and ran after the truck. “They’re getting away!”

Without a second of hesitation, Jeff and Jason gave chase but it proved useless so they noted the license plate number and ran for the line of police officers who had been managing the crowds and press. Frustrated that he had hesitated at first, Jeff reached the men first. “Officer, we need your help!” Urgently, he announced. “There has been a kid…”

The words died in Jeff’s throat as he saw that the man in uniform was not a police officer. On the sleeve of the man’s shirt was a round patch with the words, ‘Stone Security’. The man turned to Jeff and Jason, smiling slightly. “What’s this about a kid?” Politely, he asked.

Jason frowned upon seeing the same patch and looked about for a real police officer but turned back to the man as he caught a glimpse of him almost casually touching the hilt of his sidearm. “A kid has been trying to sneak inside the theater.” Thinking fast, Jason said. “We’re afraid he might hurt himself.”

The man nodded. “I’m guessing you chased the kid away.”

Jason nodded, grabbing his brother’s arm. “We better get back before our dad blows a fuse.”

The man smiled, moving his hand away from his sidearm. “That’s a good idea, kid. I’ll tell the others to keep their eyes open.”

Jeff and Jason ran back into the theater, down the hall, towards the stairway.  Time was not on their side as they had no choice but to tell their adopted parents everything and pray they could do something before it was too late.

“Alex was spot on.” Grumbling, Jason muttered. “If Angel had gone to those so called ‘police officers’ outside…”

“I don’t even want to think about it.” Angry, Jeff snapped. “I just hope we can get in touch with the police.”

Jason paused at an office and rushed in to grab the phone before sighing. “The phone is dead; they must have done something to the lines.”

The two continued to hurry towards the auditorium where, on the stage, John paced back and forth in front of the children, fuming. His voice was low but even with an icy tone. “Stone was using our theaters to do what?”

  “He and his three cohorts have been using your theaters around the nation as part of a drug smuggling operation, sir.” Still shaking, Angel stated. “As far as we can gather, Timmy’s parents discovered this fact four years ago and paid the price for it. They had him climb the fire escape hide inside the crawlspace of the theater so he would be spared. The poor kid had convinced himself that they would come back for him and he’s been waiting for them ever since.”

Brandy was breathless, her face filled with worry and anger.  “Do you have any proof of this?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” she reached into her pocket. “I found it in...” The words froze in her throat as she found her pocket empty.

  “Well?” asked John.

  “I don’t understand, I had it in my pocket...” Suddenly, Angel remembered Al whispering in her ear. “Al, he must have taken it from my pocket when he told me that my costume was torn.”

  Tarra sighed. “There goes our proof.”

  “Not all of it.” Stepping forward, Stephanie chimed in. She reached into her pocket, producing a tiny sealed package filled with a fine white powder. “Timmy slipped it into my pocket just before he passed out.”

  “We also found a number of old falsified records and a Journal that belonged to Timmy’s father.” Darkly, Alex added. “That proof is back at the hotel.”

  “Let me see that little pouch, Stephanie.” Firmly, Todd ordered. “If it is what I think, you kids have stumbled upon something very serious.”

  Stephanie gave Todd the small bag.  He carefully opened it up and examined its contents.  He placed one finger into the fine white powder, tasted it before quickly spitting it out. “It’s pure cocaine.” he swallowed hard. “I’m afraid your friend, Timmy is in terrible danger.”

  Just then, Jeff and Jason stormed into the auditorium and raced passed the seats to the stage.

  “Stone and his bouncers have kidnapped Timmy!” announced Jeff. “They just off with him in a big, white truck!”

“We tried to call the police but the phones are dead!” Frustrated, Jason added. “The police outside are security officers in Stone's pocket!”

  “They’re going to kill him!” wailed Stephanie.

  John knotted his jaw knotted in decision and roared, “Not if I have anything to say about it!”

He hurried off stage with Brandy and the others following and stormed into his office just off stage. There, he snatched up a satellite phone before dialing a number. “No one crosses John Stravis!”

  “What does he have in mind?” asked Alex.

  “I’m not sure.” replied Brandy. “But I can tell you this, my husband is not one to trifle with.”

  Just then, someone answered on the other line. “Hello, Roosevelt; this is John Stravis. Do you remember that loan I gave you a few years ago to start your cab business?”

  “How could I forget?” asked Roosevelt, sitting in his office on the other line. “I still owe you big on that one.”

  “Well, now is a good time to pay up.  Listen close, one of my young performers has just been kidnapped; taken right out of my theater!  I am going to need your help to get him back.”

  “Kidnapped?” Roosevelt slowly rose from his chair, shocked and angered.  “What you want me to do?”

  Moments later, Roosevelt’s voice echoed over the radio of every cab in his company. “Attention all cabs, a young boy was just kidnapped from the Open Door Theater on Broadway.  The owner, John Stravis is offering a reward of one hundred thousand dollars for his safe return. Here are the details...”

  Immediately after Roosevelt’s announcement, every cab in his company screeched to a halt and tore up pavement to search the city in and around the theater district.

  “Good thinking, dear.” said Brandy, after her husband had hung up the phone. “With a reward of one hundred thousand dollars, you will have every cab in the city looking for Timmy.”

  “I’m just getting warmed up, Brandy, my love.”

  With that, John picked up the receiver again and dialed another number. “Chief Harry O’Douglas, this is John Stravis...”

  Tarra’s eyes widened before smiling slightly, impressed. “Wow; Mr. Stravis will have everyone in New York looking for Timmy.”

  Brandy kneeled down to the children’s level, smiling. “I think that’s what he has in mind.” She paused. “Do any of you have any clues as to who Timmy is?”

  “These may help.” Again reaching into her pocket, Stephanie said. “They fell out of Timmy’s hand as Stone was carrying him off the stage.”

  “Let me see them.”

  Stephanie gave Brandy the two folded pieces of paper and she carefully opened them up to reveal a small, torn photograph and an old newspaper clipping. As she looked at the two items, she shed a tear.

  “What are they?” asked Angel.

  “It- It seems to be a picture of Timmy’s parents and a newspaper clipping, which proves that his parents were the former owners of this theater.” She let out a low gasp. “That was Martha and Jonathan King!”

  Angel opened her mouth as if to scream, then snatched the photograph from Brandy’s hand.

  “What’s with you, Angel?” Startled, Alex asked.

  Angel did not answer; she merely stared at the small photograph with her lips trembling as tears streamed down her face.

  “What’s wrong, dear?” Turning to her, Brandy asked. “Do you know who Timmy’s parents are?”

  Angel swallowed down a heavy lump that had formed in her throat before she nodded and said, “The woman in this picture; she’s my Aunt Martha.”

  Jaws dropped and tears began to fall as the shock hit everyone inside the room, except for Mr. Stravis who was busy making calls on the phone.

  “Well, that’s all I can do for now.” Pocketing his satellite phone, he said. “All we can do now is wait. Why don’t we get back to…”

  He stopped upon seeing the faces of everyone in the room. “Uh, did I miss something?”

  Brandy wiped the tears from her eyes. “Come along, kids.” Standing up, she said. “Let’s all get back to rehearsals; there’s nothing more we can do here.”

  The group marched out of the office and headed back to the stage with John following, confused. “What?”

**********

  Elsewhere, in another part of the city, Stone’s truck quickly pulled into the parking garage of an old, abandoned warehouse. Wayne jumped out and swiftly closed the door just before a squad car hurried passed with two more behind it.

  “Stravis must have everyone in the city looking for us.” Panting, he stated. “It’s a good thing you picked a location close by.”

  “Don’t thank me.” Opening the truck’s rear doors, Max said. “Thank Mr. Cruel; he purchased this warehouse to open it as a prop furniture factory for the theater district.”

  Cruel nodded, climbing out of the truck. “It will soon be business as usual, gentlemen.”

“Shall be just off the kid here?” retrieving his heavy revolver, Max asked. “It will be quick and the mess should be easy enough to clean.”

Cruel shook his head. “No, we’ll take him to the east river after we’re done setting up and shoot him there. The currents should take him out to sea where the fish will finish him.” He huffed. “For now, just tie him up somewhere out of my sight.”

**********

  Back at the theater, the hours passed slowly for the children with no word about Timmy.  Although the final rehearsals went more flawlessly than ever, they could not hide their deep concern for Timmy.  During the last song of the rehearsals, Stephanie broke down and cried as she fell to her knees on the stage floor.

  “That’s enough rehearsing, kids.” Gently, Brandy ordered. “Get back to your dressing rooms and freshen up. First curtain is in two hours.” As the children slowly walked off the stage, she turned to her husband. “John, we have just got to find Timmy.”

  “We have done everything we could.” said John. “Do not worry, pet.  Roosevelt and O’Douglas are both just as stubborn than I am, they will come through for us.  All we can do is wait.”

  “The moment Coppertone arrived, I had him go back to his office and get on the horn with his men so they could search the city as well.” Trying to be comforting, Todd said. “But you have to realize that finding a lone boy in New York City is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  Meanwhile, outside Cruel’s warehouse, the garage door opened and a small gray four door slowly pulled out. Cruel was driving with Max riding shotgun. Wayne and Al were in the back seat holding Timmy who was tied, gagged, and struggling wildly. Unknown to them, a Jamaican born cab driver from Queens named Mamma Beauty was just starting her shift when she noticed their vehicle slowly pull out of the abandoned warehouse. Momma Beauty was a stout but muscular woman with long black hair, piercing green eyes, and a deep tan that did nothing to hide her impressive collection of tattoos that covered much of her arms. “Now what do you suppose is going on there?” In a heavy accent, she wondered.

  Then, she spotted Timmy, tied and gagged in the back seat, struggling against two men who were holding him between themselves as Roosevelt’s announcement repeated itself over her radio. Angered and concerned, she turned off the radio before the reward was mentioned.

  Beauty frowned. “So, you boys are out to kill that child, eh?” She roughly pushed her cab into gear. “Not on Mamma Beauty’s shift!”

"Hold him still!" Angry, Max demanded. “He’s just a kid!”

"What do you think we’re trying to do?" Struggling against Timmy's thrashing body, Al yelled back. "The kid's gone nuts!"

"He will not be a problem for long." Darkly, Cruel remarked. "Just look alive when we get him out of the car; that kid has more tricks than you might imagine."

Timmy cursed at the men but the gag tied tight into his mouth muffled his voice.

Al responded by punching him in the face; sending his head reeling. "Save your breath, kid. You won't be breathing at all after a while."

Cruel continued to drive south, towards the east docks, unaware of the cab following from a safe distance.  As they reached the docks, Mamma Beauty turned off her headlights and slowed to a stop to wait for her opportunity to jump in.  Wayne and Al piled out of the back, dragging Timmy with them as he continued to struggle.

"I am really going to enjoy this, boy." Retrieving his heavy revolver from a holster under his jacket, Max gloated. "Give my regards to your folks when you get to the other side."

Max pushed the hammer down but was surprised as Timmy suddenly broke his bonds and swung a fist, knocking the gun from his hand just as he pulled the trigger.  Wayne and Al swung their guns, trying to knock Timmy down but he managed to dodge their blows. Cruel fired a warning shot with his own gun in the air but Timmy ignored it as he ran off, hoping to vanish into the darkness.

  “Stone is going to kill Angel; I just know it! I have to get back to the theater and stop him!”

Seeing her opening, Beauty kicked the accelerator, sending her cab racing to Timmy's aid. Cruel and his men looked up, hearing the roar of the engine and were temporarily blinded as Beauty hit her cab's high beams in their faces. In the next breath, the cab came to a screeching halt beside Timmy and Beauty blew the horn causing him to stop dead in his tracks. "Get in, man!"

Timmy jumped into the back seat, slamming the door behind him and Beauty rammed the accelerator to the metal as bullets bounced off the hull of the fleeing cab.

Cruel roared in anger then ran for the car. “After them; we can’t let that boy live!”

The four men piled into the car and hurried after the cab, with their guns out and ready.

"Thank you, ma'am." said Timmy, after he had removed his gag. "You saved my life!"

Beauty smiled at the rear view mirror. "No worries, man. Everyone calls me Mamma Beauty, but you can just call me Beautiful." she let out a small laugh then paused, seeing Timmy’s face. “Hey; You’re Timmy!”

"Y-Yes, ma’am."

  Beauty smiled. "I never forget a face, man. You saved my life last winter when I lost control on some ice and hit a phone poll! If you had not pulled me out…” She gasped, seeing blood running down Timmy’s cheek. “Good Lord! You are hurt!”

Timmy placed the gag, damp from being inside his mouth, against his wound.  It stung, but at least he was still alive. "I'll be okay." he said.

Beauty knotted her jaws in decision. “Well, Timmy; here is where I repay your kindness. Do you know why they were trying to use you to feed the east river fish?"

"I know their secret.  But so does Angel. I've got to get back to the theater before they try to kill her too."

Then, the small gray car screamed up behind them from a side street and the three bouncers began firing their guns at the cab. Timmy gasped, ducking down as Beauty cursed under her breath in Jamaican.

"Don't worry, man.  Momma Beauty has her ways."

She turned her radio back on and snatched up the mike before hitting the transmit button. "This is Mamma Beauty calling all of you big, strong cabbies out there.  I have a little boy in my cab and gray car with four trigger happy kidnappers on my tail.  Do you boys think you could help this poor old woman in distress?"

A strong male voice answered immediately. "I'm on it, Mamma; just tell us where you are!"

"I am just now passing the corner of Fifth and main. My friend and I are making a run for the theater district."

Another male voice echoed over the radio. "We're there, beautiful! You get the boy to the theater; the rest of us will take out the trash!"

"Thanks, boys and remember, Beauty always pays her debts."

Beauty placed the mike back on its hook and smiled as she spotted two cabs coming at her from the other way. They honked their horns as they passed and both divers fired a gun from the window at the advancing car. One shot took out the left headlight and the other hit the hood release, sending the hood flying up. The grey car swerved and hit a poll hard, badly denting in the hood, stopping it cold.

Cruel came out of the car, screaming obscenities as the two cabs kept driving then looked about to find Beauty’s cab was far out of sight. Fuming, he turned to the three bouncers who were stumbling out, shaken but not injured. “Get another car; I don’t care how!”

Inside Beauty’s cab, a male voice came over the radio. “We bought you some time, beautiful.”

“You did well, man.” Radioing back, Beauty said. “We are almost at the theater now.”

"I just hope we are not too late." Worried, Timmy said.

"Don't worry, Timmy. Mamma Beauty will get you there in time, even if I have to park my cab in the lobby."

Minutes later, Beauty's cab came to a screeching halt in the parking lot of the theater, which was then loaded with cars, and Timmy jumped out with a regretful look.  "I- I don't have any money to…”

Beauty smiled sweetly. "Don't you worry about the fee, Timmy; you saved my life so I saved yours.  You just go and help your friend; I'll be in to help as soon as I find a place to park."

With that, Beauty sped away and Timmy raced into the theater through the side entrance that was left unlocked and bolted up the basement stairs, into service hall. There, he slipped into a small storeroom where he then scrambled into the ventilation system, praying he was not too late.

Inside the girls' dressing room, still a mess from being ransacked by Wayne earlier that day, the girls all sat at their booths. They were all in costume but sniffling and crying in worry.

"Come along, girls." Stepping into the room, Brandy said. "There's only ten minutes left before first curtain.” She sighed.  "I know you are worried about Timmy; I am too.  I wish there was something more we can do but the show must go on."

"You're talking as if he's dead." Depressed, Tarra sniffed.

Brandy frowned. "Timmy is not dead." she put on a firm face, looking the girls in the eye. "Now listen, my husband has practically everyone in the city looking for him right now.  Pull yourselves together; I will come to get you when it's time to go on stage."

Brandy walked out, closing the door behind her and wiped a tear from her eye as she then walked away, unaware of a faint knocking in the ceiling above her. Inside the girls' dressing room, Stephanie began to cry again, but suddenly stopped as she heard the faint knocking.

"Timmy, is that you?" she spoke so softly, she feared he may not have heard her.

The other girls looked up, listening intently, but they did not hear anything. "It's just your imagination, Steph." With a sight, Rachel said. "There's no one up there."

Stephanie bowed her head, frustrated. "I know I heard him."

Tarra rose from her seat, wiping at her tears. "Come on, guys; we might as well get ready."

Inside the shaft, Timmy let out a low sigh; relieved he had made it back to the theater in time but his concerns rose as he saw how distressed they were as they struggled to compose themselves and check their makeup. "The show must go on, are you ready?"

Inside the dressing room, the girls jumped, shocked and relieved as Timmy's voice reached them. "I knew I heard him!" Happily, Stephanie cried. "I knew it!"

"Are you ready?" Timmy asked again.

"We will be." Wiping away a tear, Karen answered. "Count on it."

"They are coming for us, Angel." Darkly, Timmy said. "Don’t worry, I will not let them hurt you."

"Wait, Timmy!" Quickly, Angel called. "There's something you need to know, I’m..."

"I will protect you." Firmly, Timmy interrupted. "Stone and his men are not going to win." he voice quivered. "Not this time."

With that, he moved on through the shafts with the faint knocking following him.

"What are we waiting for?" Turning to the girls, Tarra said. "We have a musical to perform!"

Knowing that Timmy was again safe, the girls voiced their support and began to prepare with their excitement was building. Angel alone remained motionless as she at her booth, staring at the vent in the ceiling.

"Don't worry, Angel." Noticing her concern, Rachel soothed. "You will get a chance to tell him."

Angel gave her a small grin. "Thanks, Rachel. I'm sure I will."
She then turned back to the vent in the ceiling.

"Please be careful, Timmy."

Inside the boy's dressing room, Alex and the others looked up to the faint knocking echoing from the ventilation shaft. "It's probably just Jeff or Jason." Sadly, Alex said.  The boys jumped as Jeff and Jason walked into the room.

"It's been almost eight hours and there is no word about Timmy yet." Frustrated, Jason complained. "We'll have to go on without him."

"Guess again." Tears forming, Scott said. "Listen."

Jeff and Jason paused then smiles as they heard the telltale sounds of Timmy moving through the shafts.

"He's back!" Elated, Jason whispered. His smile faded. "But why isn't he stopping to greet us?"

"I don't like this." Frowning, Scott muttered. "Something must be up."

"He has to be heading for the crawlspace." Leaving the room, Jeff said. “I’ll check up on him."

Alex nodded. "Let us know if there is anything we can do to help."

Jeff nodded and left the room while, outside, in the parking lot, a black four door car came to a screaming halt near the service entrance and Max jumped out with the two bouncers following.

"Search the theater; find that boy!” Sharply, Max ordered. “He is the only one who can send our entire operation down the tubes! I'm not going back to Cruel unless that boy is dead!"

The three men ran through the side entrance and split up, each taking a different hall in a last desperate effort to keep their operation alive. "This is it, boy.” Max snarled. “Tonight will be your final performance!"

Inside the crawlspace, Timmy pushed passed the back drop and tore through the pile of costumes he had used as a bed while thunder rumbled in the far distance.  Finally, he picked out a long black cloak and threw it on, over his shoulders.

He curled a single, angry fist cracking all of its knuckles. "I'm ready for you, Stone! Come witness the final performance of Timmy King!"