Chapter 164 - Jacques
Keeping a close eye on his boss, Jacques settled into the back of the van for the second time that day. Mr Devreaux was out of it, barely conscious and unable to put up a fight. He’d mumbled a bit while being carried but, for the most part, it’d been nonsensical. Now, as the man lay on the floor of the vehicle, he was silent, jostling back and forth a bit as they were driven from the abandoned factory.
“I’ll bring help. Stall for as long as you can.” Jacques had whispered this to the girl, and planned on keeping his word. Vivian had acted as though the man wearing the creepy mask was someone she knew; this tracked with her earlier comment, of thinking she had an idea of who was behind all this. What was her connection to that guy? Would she be able to manipulate the situation as much as she hoped?
There was a bit of a bump as the driver turned the van onto the street, bringing Jacques’ thoughts back to the present. He didn’t trust these people to leave them anywhere near a phone. In fact, he’d be surprised if they didn’t put a bullet in his and Mr Devreaux’s head, before returning to their boss. ‘Preferably alive’ gave them permission to choose whichever outcome they liked, and something told him ‘dead’ would be their ‘preferred’ state. That meant he had to act before they got too far from the factory, but not while they were too close, either. If they somehow called for backup, there needed to be enough time for him to get the hell outta there before it arrived, or it would be game over.
Glancing down at Mr Devreaux, Jacques let out a breath, calming himself for the next part. It was two against one, so he couldn’t take any chances. Any mistake put not only his own life in danger, but the boss’ as well.
“Hey,” he called out, banging his fist on the metal cage that separated the front from the back of the van. “This guy isn’t breathing anymore. You gotta stop.”
A snort came from the man riding shotgun. “Fat chance. Let him suffocate.”
Yeah, that’s what I kinda figured you'd say, Jacques told himself with a smirk. Doesn’t mean I gotta stop being an ass. “C’mon, man, that’s just cold,” he continued, still rattling the cage with his fist. When neither man responded, it only further fuelled his need to annoy the hell out of them.
Grabbing the cage with both hands, Jacques proceeded to shake it like his life was on the line. The noise it made was loud and difficult to ignore. It didn’t take long for the driver to slam on the brakes. The man riding shot gun turned in his seat, pointing a gun at the one making all the racket. “Sit the fuck down,” he ordered.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work,” Jacques informed them over the racket. “The holes in this are barely wide enough for a bullet to pass through. I doubt you’re good enough a shot to avoid a ricochet.”
“For fuck’s sake,” the driver muttered, throwing his door open and leaving the van. The other followed his lead.
The moment they were out of the vehicle, Jacques couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He moved to stand — or stoop, since the ceiling was rather low — by the back doors. Widening his stance a bit, he waited. The sounds of a muffled conversation reached his ears, and two seconds later the latch on the door released.
Without warning, Jacques raised his leg and kicked the door as hard as he could. Said door struck whoever was on the other side before closing again, though this time without latching into place.
Not wanting to waste the element of surprise, Jacques shot out the back of the van, colliding with the one still standing. The gun that’d been pointed towards him fell to the ground as the two men began to grapple. They were identical in size, which meant the victor would be decided by skill, or luck.
Fortunately, Jacques had always been a rather lucky man. He did take a few blows to his face and stomach but, in the end, managed to get the other man in a stranglehold. Ten seconds was all it took before his opponent was unconscious.
Letting out a breath, Jacques stretched his arms before getting back to work. First, he searched the men for weapons, also relieving them of their phones and wallets — a bit of petty revenge for trashing his earlier. Next, he moved Mr Devreaux to the front passenger seat, pushing the back down as far as it could so the man wouldn’t need to sit upright because, at the moment, that wasn’t something he could do.
Once he had his boss settled, Jacques proceeded to throw the still unconscious asshats into the back. Before closing the door, he made sure to use the facial recognition feature on one of their phones. With that done, it was time for the hard part.
He listened as the phone rang, and rang, and rang some more before the call finally connected. On the other end was silence — go figure, he thought — meaning he had to be the one to speak first. “Hey, old man, so here’s—“
“Where the hell are you,” Gilbert demanded through the phone, his voice deadly in how calm it sounded.
“As I was saying,” Jacques retorted, “here’s the deal. I got the boss, but he’s hopped up on some drug cocktail and isn’t able to do much. Can you track this number to my location? You should also send a handful of scary guys, to start, so I can bring ‘em back to get the little lady.”
There was a prolonged silence, and he was worried the call might have dropped but, when he listened closely, he could make out faint background noise. “It will take approximately ten minutes for everyone to arrive,” the old man finally said.
“Coolio. Could you also send someone to the park to get my bike? And my wallet — it’s in a trash can near the…” he trailed off as the dial tone beeped in his ear. “Well that’s rude,” he muttered, pocketing the phone as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Think you could stop my old man from skinning me alive when he gets here?” Jacques asked his boss, who managed to crack open an eye.
“Viv…vian…?”
“Don’t worry,” he assured Mr Devreaux. “The troops are coming. We’ll get her back, one way or another.”