The Way Back: Chapter 32

He opened the door, and quietly entered, hoping to go undiscovered, when Tea popped up from behind the door.  "Where have you been, Querido?"

He was startled, but tried not to show it.  "I was out, needed some fresh air."

"Ah, I see.  Not good enough air for you outside on the grounds here?"

"No, I felt like driving.  Nice night for a drive."

"All right, now let's get real, mister.  What's going on?  You're secretive, you're acting really weird, and you're not around as much.  You seem distant.  I just want to know what is going on."

"Nothing, nothing that you won't cure."  He said, slipping his arms around her waist, and kissing her, deep and hard, lifting her off the ground at the same time.

She kissed him back, and felt lightheaded.  She always did at his touch.  His kiss was no exception to this, and could make her knees weaken.  Upon pulling back from him, she returned momentarily to kiss him again, shorter, then said, "This won't distract me, so don't even try.  Something is wrong.  Don't you know by now you can trust me with anything?"

"Yes, I know that.  I trust you with everything, my heart, my soul, my body."  He pressed himself against her, and she felt him, ready, hitting against her thigh.  He opened his mouth and took hers, hands on her.  He whispered, "Now try seeing what's wrong.  Nothing's wrong."  He pushed himself against her, "Everything's right. "

She closed her eyes, lifting her head to allow him to suck on her neck.  "Yes, do it, right here, now."

Don't even try, eh?"

She cried out, "You bastard!" and dug her nails into his shoulders, pulling him onto her, as they went to the floor.

***

Todd pulled the covers over them, and they stared into each other's eyes for a few moments before he moved out from between her thighs and lay beside her.  Kissing her hands, one finger at a time, he looked at her and smoothed a stray piece of her blonde tresses away from her face.  "I love you, Blair."

"I love you, Todd."  She half whispered it.  She'd done that before; he'd memorized the sound and rehearsed it in his mind when he needed her.  His Blair.

"I thought of you every day, every minute I was able.  You know that?"  he said.

"Yes, I know.  I would have done anything to make it so you didn't have to go through it all.  I'm so sorry, Todd."

"There's been enough pity for me.  I prefer undying love, thank you."

"You have it."  She said, getting up.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going over to Tea's."

"What?  It's late?  Why?"

"Yeah, you're right, it is late," she fell back into bed.  "But I'm going tomorrow."

"Why?  I don't want you around them.  Especially Tomas."

"Tomas is no threat to you."

"He might be.  We don't know."

"I'm going."

"Why?"

"To steal your ring back."

***

Sitting by the fireplace alone, Tomas was sipping one of his favorite wines and sketching.  He had an idea for a new painting of Blair.  This time, he would not be copying it from a picture, but from his own mind and heart.  He knew he still loved her, even though he had no hopes of seeing it through.  She had made up her mind.  Dorian was right; there was a cycle with Todd that was almost impossible to be shattered.  "And," he thought to himself aloud, "maybe it's not meant to be broken."

Tomas cradled his forehead in his hand, and breathed a long sigh.  In the type of life he had lead, that of a trained assassin, he had many things he did not want to remember, things that were hard to recall, events that were painful to recount.  He closed his eyes, and images seeped in, and try as he might, some were too potent to dismiss.

It was dusk.  He had watched Mitch Laurence bring his goons into the mausoleum and waited outside.  His initial orders:  execute Todd Manning and leave no trace.  His new orders, delivered within the last ten minutes: take Todd Manning alive and bring him to his superiors at the compound.  He didn't understand why his mission changed, but that was not for him to know.  He didn't ask questions, especially with these kinds of assignments.  He hid behind some bushes and waited.  Within a few moments of Mitch going inside with his men, Tomas followed closely behind as to view the scene and get the info he believed they would be sharing.

As he peeked through the crack in the mausoleum door, he was not surprised at what he saw.  Yes, Todd Manning was there, as he thought, but the circumstances were not what he planned.  Still, he waited and watched, not wanting to bring attention to himself and ruin the opportunity.  He listened.  Manning was bound.  He was tied in a way that appeared to be impossible to break.  His arms were at his sides, and rope coiled about him, snaking up and down his torso and legs.  

Laurence spoke,  "Any last words, Mr. Manning?"

"Yeah.  You go to hell!"

He watched Mitch turn to Todd, "There is no peace, sayeth the Lord, unto the wicked."   And he nodded to one of the men, who pulled out a white cotton cloth and gagged Manning.  Though struggling, Tomas winced as the two men lifted Todd and put him into the crypt, clearly next to the dead body of someone else.  From his time following the situation, he assumed it was the body of Todd's own father, Victor Lord.  

Mitch spoke again, "You're about to join your father in Hell."

The men moved the heavy, cement cover over Todd and the corpse, closing them in.  "Rest in peace, Todd Manning, rest in peace," Mitch Laurence said, to a backdrops of gagged screams from Todd. 

Tomas realized that he had very little time to get Manning out alive.  But Laurence wasn't through.  In response to the muffled cries from within the crypt, Laurence smiled and said, "What's that Todd?  I can't hear you," and laughed maniacally.  Time was running out, and Tomas quickly left the doorway as the two men who assisted walked out.  They stationed themselves not far from the entrance, and one took out a cigar and lit it.  The two of them idly chatted, while Laurence stayed inside the mausoleum.  Tomas could still hear what was going on inside the building in Mitch's strong voice, that carried from a small side window above his hiding place. 

"I suggest you save what little breath you have left, hmm?  No one will hear you anyway, and no one will even look for you.  I do have one small regret.  Though you will be charged with the murder of your good friend Sam, you won't live to pay for it."

Tomas looked at his watch.  Already 2 minutes had passed.  He could still hear Todd making noises and struggling in the tomb, but it was less often and weaker.  He knew that within minutes, he would be dead or brain damaged beyond repair.  Bile rose in his throat thinking of Laurence waiting in the mausoleum until Todd quieted in the same grave with his dead father.

Finally, after three minutes and a half, Laurence walked out of the mausoleum, and proceeded to update the men.  Tomas had two immediate problems on his hands at the moment: Todd was in there without air, and every second counted, while they were outside talking and in his path; and he had to get the heavy top off that vault in time to save Manning, all alone.  In the knowledge of this, he removed his cell phone from his pocket and signaled to another henchman for back up.

He decided to take his best shot and crept behind the three men, as silently as possible, to get into the building of death.  Having done so, he attempted to move the top even a few inches to provide air, but it was heavier than it looked.  Peeking back outside, he found relief when the men left, and drove off into the night.  How would he get the top off?

There was  no sound coming from the crypt any longer, so he could not even enlist the help of Todd if there was any way to do so.  He improvised.  Moving himself against the vault, he put his hands behind him, and squatting, he lifted the top two or three inches and struggled to move it over to allow a small air space.  He was able to accomplish just that, but could not see inside the vault enough to check on Todd himself.  He tried the same move again, adjusting the cement cover another 4 inches or so, revealing the dead corpse beside Todd.  For a moment, he regulated his own breathing, realizing what Todd Manning may have dealt with in the last few moments of his life, but struggled to continue to find a way to rescue him.  Now, a few moments, and help would arrive, and he and Shaw could get the top off together.  But, would Manning make it that long, and was he even alive?  

Tomas positioned himself with one heel against the lid, and began to kick.  He kicked as many times as he could and moved the top enough to see Todd's face.  "You're quite a formidable man, Mr. Manning," he said aloud, for part of the impossible was done; the ropes were loosened enough that he had pulled one of his hands free.   His arm lay in a way that appeared dislocated at the shoulder.  His wrists were bloody, Tomas was not sure what that was from.  The fingertips were scraped open and bleeding from what he determined was scratching at the lid, and gripped a photograph.   It was also bloodstained, but Tomas reached in to take it from Todd's hand, and received resistance.  "He's alive," he thought.  "And he won't let go."

Just then, Shaw came in, and the two men removed the top, and lifted Todd out of the vault.  Shaw said, "I wonder why he struggled so hard to get that photo from his pocket?  He couldn't see it in there.  Too dark."

Tomas looked closely at the photograph.  "Obvious.  Look at her."  He was so taken with the image of the blonde woman next to Todd Manning, who was barely recognizable without his hair and goatee.  She was so beautiful, beaming in an old-fashioned dress, clearly at her wedding, and they both were smiling, happy, surrounded by gold balloons.  He swallowed.

Shaw spoke, attempting to revive Todd.  "No woman is worth breaking your own arm to hold her picture when you're dying in the dark, buddy."  

Tomas was not so sure about that.  People did many strange things in their last moments.  He knew from experience.  Before killing them, people had done many unusual things and had many odd requests before their death.  To him, seeking to hold this photo was not so strange.  Not at all.  

Todd stirred for a moment, as if waking, but through his gag, the men heard a final cry.  After this ceased, Todd was still, eyes open, but motionless.

"Is he dead?"  Shaw asked.

Tomas checked him the various ways he determined death of a target.  "No, he's not.  He's just...not with us.  He's lost his mind."  And with that, he pulled at the photo until he was able to pry it loose from Todd's raw fingers and tucked it into his pocket.  He realized his job was almost done.  Now, to transport the man to his superiors for whatever use they planned.

"We're going to deliver him like that?  He's off in some la-la land.  The poor guy was thrown in next to this dead guy.  Was he awake when that happened?"  Shaw said, wiping his brow.

"Yep.  Wide awake.  Now, we gotta close that back up."

"As long as I've known you, Delgado, I've never understood how cold you are until today.  Brutal, man, just brutal."

"Comes with the territory," he said matter-of-factly.    We'll bring him in, just like that."  Tomas kicked at Todd's legs to see if there would be a response.  "Nothing.  Gone, into somewhere.  Now, to bring him to his new residence.  He'll be spending the rest of his life, however short, right there."

Tomas sat up straight, hearing a noise outside the house.  He called out, "Tea?  Is that you?"

He stood, walking to the back patio doors.  Within moments, he heard a familiar muffled sound, then secondarily realized blood was pouring from him onto the ground.  He sank to the patio stonework, clutching his chest, but could not cry out for help, because it was impossible to catch his breath.  He lay there, bleeding, and he looked down to see that he was still holding his sketchpad, with the drawing of Blair, in his hand.

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