Deadly Silence (complete) Chapter 159

The man wearing the kabuki mask scoffed. “You aren’t in a position to make demands.”

“Yes, I am,” she shot back. A tremble began to show in her hands, so she carefully removed them from Samuel’s face and stood up. This man held all the power, but only if she allowed it. There were men waiting just outside the room, ready to come in if she or Jacques tried anything — this was probably the only reason why he, the Curator, was comfortable being alone with them. Even if they took him out, the others would retaliate; there was no way for her to win.

That didn’t mean she had to lose.

“Do tell,” the Curator said, holding his arms out, palms up as if offering her the opportunity to defend her case. “How are *you* in a position to make demands?”

“Your reputation is on the line,” she retorted, balling her hands into fists until her nails dug into her palms. With the sharp pain helping to keep her fear at bay, Vivian continued. “People know you’re the one who sent the ransom demand, and if you don’t follow through on it, to the letter, the next time you do this they’ll know you won’t hold up your end. That means you’ll never get what you want.”

The Curator tilted his head a little to the right, then left, as if her words confused him. “You say that like I care. There are other ways to make someone pay up.”

*Think, Vivian, think*, she told herself, lips pursed as she tried to find another angle. *If he’s working with Paul… should I use myself as leverage to get Dad out of here? Would that work?*

As if sensing her struggle to find a new argument, the Curator began to laugh. “Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha.”

Hearing that laugh was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on Vivian. Suddenly, things were beginning to click into place.

She’d been under the assumption Paul only had pull in the police department. The thought that he might have ties to the darker sides of the city had only been a recent development, and one she’d been hesitant to accept. Unless it was through someone else, it didn’t feel like something he’d be capable of pulling off. Now, however, she understood how naive she’d been.

“If you don’t hold up your end of the deal,” she began, voice shaking as she faced the man she’d once thought she’d killed, who’d made her childhood hell, and who’d murdered her mother, “I’ll end my own life, so you won’t get what you want.”

There were a few seconds of silence, and she caught Jacques staring at her in confusion before he turned his attention back to the Curator — to Detective Paul Oglivie.

“And what,” the Curator took a breath, “makes you think I need to take your life myself? If I wanted you dead, your ending it for me would just make my job easier.”

“Don’t mock me,” she retorted, voice steady now, though her stomach was still in knots. It was a good thing all she’d eaten in the last couple hours was a single fry; there was nothing for her to vomit. “You want revenge for Mom. Me taking my own life would rob you of that.”

Paul regarded her in silence for a long moment, then let out a chuckle. “It seems I’ve underestimated you. Very well. I’ll have someone throw him out somewhere.”

“No,” she snapped. “Jacques will take him.”

“Oh? Why would I agree to that?”

“Because you want me, not him. I also don’t trust you not to kill my father the second he’s out of the building. Jacques is here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Vivian might have been stretching the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either. Jacques was a runner; it was his job to make deliveries and pickups, or so she assumed. She’d had him tag along not really knowing how he’d be of use. It wasn’t as though she’d brought him into a dangerous situation outside of his job description; he was part of the Business, so this sort of thing was part of his regular day-to-day — or so she told herself to stop the guilt from taking over.

The thought of being alone with Paul made Vivian’s stomach twist even tighter, but getting her father out, alive, was more important.

Her statement was met with silence. She could feel the tension in the air, as if it was attempting to suffocate her, but she refused to back down. There’d also been a change in Paul’s posture when she’d said the word ‘father’, and that made her wonder. Did he still think of himself as her father? Was that why he tensed when she’d called Samuel by that the title?

“Seems you’re as stubborn as always,” he finally said, sounding like he spoke through gritted teeth. “Your runner will have to carry the bastard out himself. Might want to be careful, though — he’s been pumped full of drugs, so he’s deadweight.”

*That explains why he hasn’t said much*, Vivian realized, turning to look at Samuel. *And why he’s just… sitting there. Even in pain, I expected him to be trying to get me out of here, but if he’s full of drugs… It’s no wonder he’s barely conscious*. “Jacques, think you can manage it?” She asked out loud.

Jacques walked over and crouched next to Samuel. As though he did it all this time, he forced her father’s eyes open, and stared into each of them for a couple second. “Yeah, he’s doped on something good. Probably doesn’t feel a thing, which makes this easier.”

Wondering how he could tell, but deciding now wasn’t the time to ask, Vivian only nodded. She watched as he threw one of Samuel’s arms over a shoulder before doing… she wasn’t sure what he was doing, but the end result was her father being held in a fireman’s carry. “Let’s go,” he told her, looking unbothered by the weight of an entire man on his shoulders.

Turning to Paul, Vivian said, “Well?”

“My men will—“

“No, I’m going with them, at least until they leave the building.”

“It’s almost like you don’t trust me,” Paul laughed.

“Why would I? You’ve never done anything to earn it.”

Her words silenced him again. Instead of finding something to say in response, Paul moved to the door and flung it open. “Take them back to the van.”

“…sir?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No, sir.”

There were three men standing in the corridor, muscle-man being one of them. The one wearing the hat was nowhere to be seen, which was fine by Vivian. That same man from the park, the one who looked familiar, was there, and she had to force herself not to sneak glances his way as she tried to figure out where she’d seen him before.

They were escorted back to the parking garage, with Paul bringing up the rear. The men said nothing, but glanced towards their boss once they reached the van.

“Take them,” Paul motioned towards Jacques and Samuel, “somewhere and dump ‘em. Preferably alive, I guess.”

Muscle-man opened the back of the van and Jacques stepped up, gently setting Samuel down inside before turning around. “Vivian,” he began, as he walked over to her and stopped. Without warning, he pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tight.

Caught by surprise, Vivian wasn’t able to reciprocate. She tensed when he whispered something in her ear before releasing his hold. Speaking at normal volume, he said, “I’ll get your old man home.”

“Thanks, Jacques,” Vivian nodded, frowning as she watched him jump into the back of the van. *Keep him safe for me.*