Broken Toys | Chapter Eleven
Nyssa
The baggage claim in Sacramento had columns reaching its high ceiling, made from suitcases stacked haphazardly with chests. Made me wonder if that's the fate of lost luggage, to be made into structural supports.
Kahan made his way to a rental car kiosk. As he did that, I watched the crowd-half expecting to see my husband stalk my way, his monster face on and ready to make me pay for having the audacity to leave whilst I still could. Luckily for me, that wasn't the case. Kahan came back, keys in hand. "Let me have your driver's license."
"Okay. Why?" I handed it over. My feet burned and my back ached from the agonizing position I found myself in mere hours earlier.
"The boss will know you flew to Sacramento- but we're going to ditch your ID in a conspicuous place. Either it'll be mailed back to Washington or someone will use it, create a false trail. The Viking doesn't live on any paved roads, and in any case, he lives no where near Sacramento. Let's go hit the mall, I'll ditch it there."
We drove out of the airport and toward the capital city of California. Passed Arco Stadium, and several high rises. "You familiar with this city?" I couldn’t resist asking in an attempt to focus on something other than my aching feet.
"Yeah. Did some training here." He looked intently at the road before him, weaving effortlessly through traffic.
We found ourselves at the Arden Fair Mall. I stayed in the car, which he parked at the furthest point away from any entrance, and got lost in thought while Karlan ran inside. Divorce or annulment? Would Theo try to bribe the judge? What would The Viking be like? How long would I have to hide? Oh shit! Hans! I needed to call and let him know what's going on.
Fished the phone from my pocket and called him. When he answered, I greeted him with, "Hello Aunt Jilly."
"Is it safe for you to call?" Concern sat heavy in his voice.
"Yes. I'm in California. Theo didn't like it when I told him I wanted a divorce and his security guard is taking me to a safehouse. Somewhere Theo can't find me." My heart raced as that sunk into my own brain.
"Do what you have to do, and if you need anything, let me know. I'll help any way I can."
A diabolically gleeful idea hatched in my brain. "Want to have some fun fucking with Theo?"
I'm almost sure I could hear the smile forming on Hans face. "Depends on what you consider fun."
"Tell Henry I'm safe, then have him go 'check on me' at home. Theo will have a hell of a time trying to explain me missing. Give Henry this number- no, wait. Theo would try to get a hold of his phone records to see if I'd call him... so nix that idea. Tell him it's for his own safety because Theo is fucking crazy."
Hans chuckled. "Oh, send the bulldog over to make him shit his pants? I'm down with that. Could be a Kodak moment."
"Let me know how it goes. The place I'm heading is evidently not on any paved roads, so I don't know how cell reception will be. But I'm safe, so don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am. Got it. Wish I could be there when Henry pops in for a visit. To be a fly on that wall would be a prize beyond comparison."
"I know what you mean. I'm gonna go. Take care of yourself."
"Likewise. Don't do anything stupid."
"I won't. Just gonna learn some self-defense and file for divorce."
“Sounds like a plan. Take care." Click.
And with that, Hans hung up and I sat in the car, bored yet fearful. What if Theo is already awake, looking for me? He’d never forgive me for leaving. He’d never stop holding it against me. I swallowed the knot of fear growing in my throat. He’d kill me. And he could. He has the resources to do so. He could make me disappear after he tortured me. And he would. Needed to divert my thoughts, needed to reclaim my freedom. Deep breaths of air. Even if Theo woke up, he wouldn’t know where I went. I’m still free.
Don't know how long it was until Kahan returned, shopping bags in hand. After putting them in the trunk, he opened the driver's door and got in. "I left the ID next to a potted plant in the food court."
"And so the game begins?" I tried keeping the trepidation out of my voice.
"Yep." He started the car and made his way to I5. North we drove, past the airport, past almond and olive orchards. Sprawling dairy farms, towering rice dryers; this was the makeup of Northern California.
"Where does The Viking live? I can safely assume it's not a fjord?" Curiosity crawled through my bones in wonder at this person who Kahan held in such high esteem.
"Yes. We're heading toward the tiny hamlet of Stonyford. His family's ranch is out in the hills near there. More rural areas means less security cameras. Less potential for you to be spotted and reported. Your husband may depend heavily upon me to handle things he’d rather not, but it’s not out of his character to seek outside help to locate you. You’ll be safest here in the hills."
Hillfolk. Lovely. Outhouse or a functional toilet kind of place? "Cabin?"
"No. Longhouse. Even has a ram's head over the door and an indoor toilet."
We were now well over an hour into our journey and on a small, two lane road that at its heart wanted to be a narrow bike path.
"For reals?"
"Yeah. The man is a historian and linguist, too. So, if you find yourself bored, just ask him about his opinion about the Library of Alexandria's destruction."
"Okay..." This drive was taking forever and I began to feel the stirrings of nausea from motion sickness. I closed my eyes and tried to find a happy place as our rental car bounced along the pot-hole riddled road. After a long while, I felt the car slowing down and making a turn. I opened my eyes to see wide groves of oak trees lining a tiny dirt and sand road that cut its way through gently rolling hills. We drove past a small grove of trees and turned onto an even smaller gravel road, lined with honest to goodness hedges, like the ones cutting through the British Isles. We drove on this winding path for many miles as I queried Kahan. "How long until we get there?"
"Only half an hour. We’ve been on his property since we passed the little grove of pine trees on the service road. Just gotta reach the house."
I felt elated that the destination seemed near, that this escape was nearly over. At least I hoped.
The road began to climb craggy hills thick with forest and wended around large boulders. Saw deer browsing in high grass and wildflowers, lots of birds. Squirrels and chipmunks ran across the road, maybe as a coming of age right in the same category as Forager. Seemed a peaceful place.
That is, until we drove into the driveway for the longhouse- which was an actual modern home, but it did indeed have a ram's skull with curling horns atop the roof, centered over the dark wood and glass front door. A tall man opened the door, and followed by a huge dog, made his way toward us, blowing a horn. "Hail, McArgus! How is my favorite shieldmaiden?" The Viking wore tie dye and dark green cargo pants. Work boots. No horned helmet. Felt kinda let down. Man, I wish he had a horned helmet. Dark hair, cut short and bright blue eyes. His skin, ruddy from the sun, seemed to glow with his excitement. His mustache was long and braided down into his trimmed beard. Silver beads with knotwork dangled from the braids ends.
I did a double take. "McArgus?" I looked to Kahan for an explanation.
"There's some things about me you don't know. Tobie Kahan are my first and middle names. But your husband doesn't know that."
"You shouldn't keep things like that from the lady, McArgus. Bad form." The imposing man chided a frowning Kahan.
"Fuck you, Fergie."
"Don't threaten me with a good time. You know I can kick your ass, now you want me to fuck it. Good gods man, you know how to make my day. I'll even give you a reach around because I like you, you saucy beast." Said with just a hint of a smirk, The Viking’s smile grew in reaction to Kahan turning the color of a stop sign for the offer of anal sex and a reach around.
I bust out laughing, and Fergie The Viking said, “Don’t mind my gay ass. I’m only flaming when drinking. At all other times, I’m a Bear, and you get to be my Goldilocks.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance,” I held out my hand to shake his.
Kahan interjected, "I have to get back. But first you're going to kick my ass. Need to look like I got jumped."
"Today is indeed a glorious day." The Viking turned to me, "Get your bags, hun. I'll show you the guest room and then I've got an ass to pound."
I smiled. "I do appreciate double entendre."
"Oh, we're gonna have fun." He dug a silver cigarette case from his back pocket. With a smile revealing incredibly white teeth, he asked, "Smoke weed? Want one?" And I knew that this adventure had only just begun.
My room in the longhouse suited my needs quite nicely. One wall was nothing but a built-in bookcase, filled to the bursting point with both fiction and non-fiction. A queen-sized bed topped with a cushy duvet, a rocking chair by the window and dresser made up the furniture. The beyond the window, a vegetable-flower garden.
I left my room and made my way to the back patio, where I could hear The Viking and Kahan speaking.
"Look, if you don't want some naproxen for the pain I'm about to inflict, can I talk you into a couple bong rips?"
"I'll be fine. Just make it look good. I don't want it to seem like I got off light."
"Is she a part of your mission?" Those words voiced by Fergie stopped me in my tracks in the kitchen.
Mission? Working security isn't a mission, it's a job. What's going on?
"No, the other woman in his life is the target. She's the one calling the shots in the bigger picture. Got to take her down, just have to get proof." Oh shit, he's talking about Margot. Calling the shots? To what, besides my husband beating me?
"Gotta be exciting, this working undercover for the FBI." Holy fuckballs, Kahan is a FBI agent? Undercover to keep an eye on Margot? Oh shit, what has she gotten herself into?
"Well, one's gotta do what's gotta be done."
"They teach you to take a kick to the balls in Quantico?"
"What do you think?"
The Viking laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I'm going to find out in a few minutes."
I figured it was as good a time as any to announce myself and get outside. "Hey." The two men stood next a tiki-bar under a wooden pavilion.
"Ah, just in time for a demonstration. Would you like a quick lesson in self-defense?" Fergie asked with a half-smoked joint dangling from his lips.
I looked to Kahan, and he winced when I said, "Sure."
Fergie glanced in Kahan's direction and grinned. "She's got no mercy. I like her."
"Well, I asked you to make me look terrible. I asked for this." Kahan didn't sound too enthusiastic. Couldn't blame him, though.
"Not my fault. Okay, lassie, here's what you do if you're in a bar and some bloke won't leave you be. You poke him in the hip," and did just that to Kahan, who reacted by bending down a bit. "Then you put your hand on the back of their head as they've bent down, displacing their center of gravity. Apply firm pressure in a quick motion," and with that, Kahan's face smashed into the bar with an ugly thud. I bit my lip and cringed.
"If I had known you'd do that, I would have declined. I'm sooo sorry, Kahan." I felt horrible for him. Ouch.
He got his footing and stood erect. His nose was bleeding. "It's alright. Like I said, I asked for it. Although I was hoping for something a little less time consuming."
"Oh, you want a quick asskicking? Why didn't you say so?" Fergie puffed away on his joint until it began to burn his fingertips. Once he was done, he put the remainder on the bar, put a hand on Kahan's shoulder and asked, "Are you ready?"
"Yeah. Yeah I -"
A fist high-fived Kahan's face. Before he could react, Fergie had him by the arm and twisted it in a very painful looking manner. Kahan grunted in pain. Then releasing him, The Viking began using Kahan like a speedbag, fists flying and the sound of impact filling the silence. I hated looking at the violence, but I couldn't look away. It was consensual violence, and it bothered me.
Didn't take long before Fergie asked Kahan, "You okay? Ice pack? Bowl of hash? Some whisky?"
"Whisky, neat."
"You got it." And just like that, the tie-dyed hippy-viking hurried into the house only to return with a glass half-full of amber liquid. "Here, man. Medicine."
Kahan took the glass and slowly sipped it. "This your moonshine?"
"How'd you guess?"
"Doesn't taste like Jameson." Kahan turned to me, bleeding and bruised. "The man likes his Jameson."
"That I do, that I do. Smoke mota more than I drink these days. But there's always a good reason to keep whisky on hand."
I spoke up, saying what I felt needed to be stated. "Kahan, you look horrible. Let's go clean you up before you head to the airport."
"Meh, I'll be fine." He didn't drink much of his whisky, which was a good thing considering he still had to drive. He headed back to the rental car and drove off with nary a wave.
I turned to Fergie, who was intent on lighting another joint. "Oh, don't mind me," he said. "I'm a medicinal patient. Rheumatoid arthritis is a bitch. Among other things."
I didn't care that he smoked. Whatever floats his boat. His house, he can do what he wants within reason. "So what do you do?"
"Oh I do all sorts of things. I make Thor's Hammered Mead, do internet sales. I hand-forge weapons in time-honored traditions, sell those too. Teach martial arts, have a couple students from the Bay Area that come up for a day to practice bokkan and katana." He took the joint from his mouth and held it up. "I also grow Admiral Three Sheets and Great Grape Ass Crack. Family pot strains. I also blog about my homestead and forge."
"Okay then. Can I ask you a question about our mutual friend?"
His blue eyes narrowed. "Depends on the question."
"How long has he worked for the FBI? I overheard you two talking."
Fergie whistled low. "Welp, since the cat's out of the bag... well over a dozen years."
"Oh wow. Longer than he's worked for my husband." The implications rattled my bones.
"He's undercover. Don't blow his mission. He's worked for years to get this close to his goal."
"What's the goal?"
"I don't have all the details, just what he's told me over the years because he know I won't run my mouth to the wrong people. You're not the wrong people, are you?"
I shook my head. "The other woman is my husband's best friend and ex-mistress AND ex-childhood abuser. She's a skeevy bitch who has her claws deep in him."
"Well, our mutual friend is seeking the head of a child-sex slavery ring. Not just sexual slavery, human trafficking type stuff, but child pornography. International. Big time stuff. Multi-million dollar enterprise and at least a baker's dozen worth of countries involved."
"Oh my God." If Margot was behind such a horrific thing, did Theo know? Was he a part of it? His enabling of her... did it tie into such a distasteful and morally wrong enterprise?
"Gods, hunny. Your god owes mine an oak tree."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Just old history, nothing more. But as luck has it, being that it’s Lindisfarne Day in my religion, and it’s a day of feasting. So, if you have objections, there’s steak and wine to be had.”
“What religion celebrates Lindisfarne Day?” If my recollection is correct, Lindisfarne was an island monastery, destroyed by invaders.
“Asatru, the spirituality of the Vikings.” He held the half-smoked joint out to me. “Here you go, want a wee puffy-puffy?”
I debated with myself for a moment. Never had I ever done drugs, other than alcohol, and that was mostly only at husband-sanctioned times. Then I snatched the joint and puffed on it. Acrid smoke filled my lungs and I burst out coughing. Could feel blood rush to my face and my brain tingle. “What the fuck?” I hacked out the words between coughs.
Plucking the joint from my spazzing fingers, Fergus replied, “Oh, honey. Sorry. This isn’t Mexicali schwag that works as training wheels. You okay? Want some water or tea?”
I nodded and followed him into the house, my throat on fire. “Can I have another whirl with that?” I reached out for another toke.
“Your death by lung failure.” And handed it over.
This time I gently puffed on it and was rewarded by not coughing my brain out. “This is the first time I ever smoked pot.”
“Well, depending on how long you stay in my neck of the woods, we might do all sorts of interesting substances. Midsummer, for example… that’s a night I usually trip balls and get my giggles on.”
For a moment I wondered if Kahan knew this about Fergus. But then I recalled that he was offered hash and declined. Wow. Steady as she goes, Nyssa, I reminded myself. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. But when in Rome…” He and I played puff puff pass, until the joint was a tiny, finger burning nubbin. “I’m so hungry right now.” My feet hurt less but my stomach growled like a rabid beast.
“Ah, and now we can start the feast. What do you want to eat?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “What do you have?”
He laughed, a sound that echoed through the trees surrounding his home. The backyard was large, with a garden further out. Everything, lush and alive. “Well, meat-wise we can do steak or chicken, but the goat I’m saving for Midsummer. Uh, we can go raid the garden. There’s no pizza delivery out here, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I felt delight rumble through me. The thought of wandering through a garden, plucking ripe delights still warm from the sun sounds damn good right now. “You do chicken, I do veggies?”
“Go for it.”
And so I did.