Nothing But Thieves (English)

12. Chapter

Whiskey had told me that they were going to have an important visitor. But when the guy in the denim jacket appeared in the room and grabbed my throat, I became even more scared and anxious. The worst part: Why the wrong patrol car? Had they actually planned to use a different one for their escape? But where from? An incredibly nasty connection dawned on me. They had mentioned several times that their plan had almost worked. I wasn't involved just as a joke or a freak of nature. No, they had planned to ride with someone else. My involvement was a nasty misunderstanding. It had to be a policeman. How else would anyone have gotten a police car? They weren't just parked on every corner. Did the guy in the denim jacket look familiar? I thought hard. Unfortunately, a lot of people in our district had a thing for denim jackets, much to my dismay. But the accomplice didn't have to be from Morgantown. He could have been from any other police station. I pulled vigorously on my bonds, which showed no signs of moving to my side.

My gut demanded a situation report. Three bank robbers, heavily armed but likeable jokers. On top of that, at least one corrupt policeman, from God knows which police station. And he also had colleagues. It was likely that they were also law enforcement officers. I was so screwed. Nobody would believe me if I claimed that I didn't know the policemen. Which was the absolute truth. The three jokers must not find out that I had overheard bits of conversation. But even if I got out of this situation: who could I trust among my colleagues? Actually, nobody could do anything against me. If something happened to me after this incident, it was clear that someone had smelled a rat. It was maddening. The denim jacket hadn't even said a word! Just like the nasty villain from next door had grabbed my throat. I could have sworn that corrupt idiot would have strangled me right there and then if Whiskey hadn't been there.

From outside I heard car doors closing, an engine starting and the sound of cars moving away. Shortly afterwards Whiskey entered the bedroom. Friendly jokers. If push came to shove, I couldn't imagine that they would hesitate for a second to kill me. Frozen and intimidated, I looked into his eyes.

He immediately raised his arms in a calming manner. "I know what it looks like, but you have to stay calm. Everything is fine." Brick and Stark caught up behind him.

He carefully removed the scarf from my mouth.

"Did you see the look in his eyes? That ugly denim jacket would have killed me immediately! Damn, who have you got involved with? You're not like that guy. He's a Bond villain and you're more like..." A-Team, but I didn't get any further because Whiskey had pulled up the cloth again. Again, only incomprehensible sounds came out of my mouth.

"Whiskey, I would have liked to hear the comparison to the end," Brick interjected, arms crossed.

"That's beside the point. I understand that the visit made you feel insecure," the leader concluded.

Stark added: "The denim jacket has a way of making people feel insecure." Yes, I had noticed that. It's just that there was a small but subtle difference between feeling insecure and being malicious.

"But you have nothing to fear. If you babble like that, it won't help anyone. We'll talk things over, but you have to stay calm, okay? Can you handle it?" Whiskey asked, his hand around my lower leg in a fatherly way. I nodded cautiously, whereupon all three of them left the room and closed the door.

As soon as the door had closed, I started pulling and tugging at the handcuffs in a panic. As before, I was still unsuccessful. Angry and desperate, I kicked the mattress like a stubborn child. At least my injuries hurt less. Even though the gang leader had gotten stuck on my lip again.

I didn't deserve to be killed. OK, I wasn't exactly a model citizen. I smoked, swore too much, and I could have gone to church more. But just because I was an atheist didn't make me a bad person.

My attempts to free myself were draining me of energy. And the fact that I had thrown myself down a slope with all my passion. I swore never to look at a forest again in my life. Forests and slopes were my new arch enemies. I would have laughed at this thought if it hadn't been so absurd.

I couldn't tell how much time had passed, let alone what time it was. Through the window I could see how dusk was slowly setting in. Resigned, I leaned my head against the head of the bed. I should think about my last will.

Suddenly the door opened again, and the bank robbers entered the room once more. Whiskey and Stark had their arms folded in front of their chests; Brick sat down next to me. He pointed his finger at me. "I'm taking the gag off you. And this time you're going to be the quietest you've ever been in your life. Like a policeman on his last day before going into retirement. I want to experience you at that level of silence. Understood?"

I nodded cautiously. Carefully and with gentle fingers he untied the knot at the back of my head and removed it with a steady hand. Without getting caught on my laceration. I wouldn't have thought Brick capable of that. Four out of five stars.

Then Stark pressed something into his hand. I found out straight away what it was. A key for handcuffs. Brick started working on them. When they were open, he held my hands by the rope and gently guided them forward. Which was a nice move, since my arms would have slammed into my lap, painful and numb, from this forced position.

I opened my mouth expectantly, but then closed it again. Whiskey pressed the half-full water bottle into Brick's hand, which he passed to me. Slowly and without appearing dangerous, I took it and drank a large amount. I looked at my captors again, Stark nodded encouragingly.

In a quiet voice I asked: "What do you want to do with me, what decision have you come to?"

Whiskey answered: "It's simple, Leon: we'll let you go."