Chapter Seventeen
Benny flinches when Sonny throws his drink glass at the fireplace. The glass shatters on impact with the ceramic tile surround, and the bourbon slowly trickles a brown, wet pattern down the surface. "There’s no sign of Carly anywhere?" he grits out. "Have you checked her mother’s house?"
Benny slowly nods. "Yes," he says.
"What about the Quartermaines and Jake’s?" Sonny asks with a curled lip that reflects his distaste.
"Carly has vanished out of thin air. She isn’t with Sorel, and she isn’t with any friends, relatives or enemies. The last place she was seen was near the docks. We interviewed a homeless man who saw her out walking about 10:30PM. At this point, I’d suspect foul play."
"Keep looking, and keep interviewing people all along the docks. Sonny tries to maintain his composure. "Don’t ease up on Sorel. I’m still not sure he isn’t involved in this after some threats he made to me earlier this evening." Sonny stares at Benny for a few seconds. "Go on!" he yells.
~*~*~*~
"What do you mean you can’t find her?" Sorel asks with a sneer. "I told you to go out and find her, take her and bring her to me. What’s so hard about that?"
Sorel’s man shifts his feet and looks at the floor. "The last place she was seen was at the docks several hours ago. She vanished. Nowhere to be found. And, Boss, we keep rubbing elbows with Sonny Cornithos’ men. They’re out looking for her, too."
Sorel frowns and strokes his chins as he thinks. "Somebody beat us to her," he says. "She’s probably communing with the fishes as we speak."
~*~*~*~
Carly pulls the heavy, purple cloth closer to her chin. She’s freezing! There’s no heat in the mausoleum, and the surrounding cold limestone captures and releases the damp moisture into the night air. She rubs one foot and then the other, trying to increase their circulation and blood flow. I thought Nikolas was dead, she thinks. I heard about it on the radio. He was killed in a car crash. What’s he doing alive and with this madman? Carly glances over at a sleeping Nikolas. She’d tried earlier to get him to talk, but he didn’t make any sense. He seemed dazed or spacey, more so than she’d expect with that head injury. He kept mumbling about his uncle, plots, death and Emily. Carly pulls up the edge of the purple cloth and nibbles on it distractedly as she continues to think. Nikolas called the crazy guy "father." They did look remarkably similar. I thought he lived with his uncle because his father was dead. Carly’s eyes widen. But what if he’s not dead? Ohimigod. He thought I was Nikolas’ mother. He’s looking for Laura. I’ve got to get out of here and warn Luke.
~*~*~*~
Stefan continues to stand at the window, lost in thought and unaware of his nemesis Luke Spencer staring at him from beyond the window and the murderer that lurks behind him.
Andreas viciously seizes Stefan’s neck with his black gloved hands. Stefan’s eyes open wide with shocked surprise, and his fingers tear at the vise grip of Andreas’ choking hands as he twists his shoulders back in forth.
"Hello, Stefan," Andreas says in a low, angry whisper. Andreas jerks Stefan around until the two are face to face, their blinking eyes only inches apart. Stefan’s stunned green eyes stare into Andreas’ malicious brown eyes. "Care to join your b*tch mother in hell?" He roughly shakes Stefan by the neck and continues talking.
"Let me introduce myself. I’m your mother’s ultimate revenge." Andreas scornfully releases Stefan, but keeps him at bay with a small, silver gun that he rapidly pulls from his inside suit pocket. "Sit down," he orders. "Let’s have a conversation – man to man." Andreas waves his gun and motions to Stefan’s desk chair. Stefan cautiously walks over to his desk, eyes never leaving Andreas’ gun, and sits down slowly. Andreas chuckles evilly. "And just when you thought your wicked mother was dead and buried," he gravely intones. "Her hand pops up and waves beyond her grave." Andreas makes a queenly waving motion with his free hand.
"And your point is…" says Stefan evenly with a stony face and darkening eyes.
Andreas’ eyes narrow and glint dangerously. "Have some respect for your elders."
"What are you hinting at?" yells Stefan. "Out with it!"
Andreas sits down opposite of Stefan’s ornate mahogany desk and slaps a manila folder on its orderly surface, his hand resting on top of it for emphasis. "This," he says, patting the folder, "is why I’m here."
~*~*~*~
"What the h*ll are you doing, Todd?" Blair whispers angrily as she watches her ex-husband fiddling with the zipper on his pants and walking away several paces from the group.
"I gotta go," Todd replies with a worried look on his face.
Blair makes a face and shakes her head as she turns back around. "You are sooo uncouth," she says.
Todd shrugs and sighs as he relieves himself against Wyndemere.
Blair catches Lucky’s eye and waves her fist under his nose. "And don’t even think about it, Pipsqueak," she warns as she tightens her grip on her QVC genuine snakeskin purse. "Or I’ll knock you out."
Lucky registers Blair’s murderous intent. "I went before we left the hotel.. His eyebrows arch as he looks Blair up and down. "You don’t have to go, do you? Cause that would be fine with me."
Lucky groans as his shoulder absorbs the impact of Blair’s well-aimed purse, and he falls back onto the hard ground. "Ouch," he complains, rubbing his bruised elbow. What does she have in there? Rocks? Rolls of quarters?
"You’ve been hanging around Todd too long," Blair complains. "You better watch it or he’ll stunt your growth, Junior. It’s real easy to exceed your Recommended Daily Allowance of Todd Manning."
Luke crawls back to the group and makes a sour face. "What in #%&^*($ are you all yabbering on about? I’m over here trying to listen to what’s going on in that study." Luke’s hair is on end, mussed by the cold wind that whips across the Wyndemere grounds. He grips Lucky’s arm, as blue eyes meet blue eyes. "Cowboy, Andreas is in there with Stefan, having what appears to be a civilized conversation with the Count, other than the fact that he tried to strangle Stefan and is pointing a gun at him as we speak. Now all you people be quiet," he warns. "Don’t make me come back here again. He crouches low to the ground and scrambles back to his spying position under the study window, his hand cupping his ear and leaning against the glass.
~*~*~*~
Lucky, why didn’t you take me with you? Liz grumbles to herself as she nears Kelly’s Diner. You’re always going off on adventures and leaving me behind. Not this time, she thinks. I’m going to find you, and you’re going to tell me what’s going on.
Liz walks up to the door of Kelly’s and pulls out her employee key. She wants to grab the coat that she’d left behind in the diner since the air is a tad chillier than she’d anticipated, and she feels like she’s freezing in her sweater. A misty, freezing fog rolls off of the river and swells along the docks, creating a mysterious mood.
D@mn, thinks Liz. All of these keys look alike in the dark. She fumbles to grasp the next key on her keychain and attempts to unlock the door. In her frustration, she fails to notice that she’s rather isolated in the courtyard at this time of night. No one is nearby, or close enough to hear a scream or a cry of fear.
As Liz tries the last key on her keychain, a huge, clammy hand clamps itself tightly over her mouth, making it impossible for her to scream. The hand is quickly replaced with a rag soaked in a sickly sweet liquid that invades her nostrils and heads directly for her brain. Liz’s eyes frantically dart left and right in terror as she hears a deep voice whisper grimly in her ear, "Not a sound." This harsh warning is her last memory before she fades into the welcome black hole of unconsciousness. She slumps over her abductor’s arm, and he hoists Liz’s unfeeling body over his shoulder, grunting with the effort, and heads for the black, lightless alley next to the diner.
~*~*~*~
"Why won’t you make any sense?" Carly crabs at Nikolas as she shakes him by the shoulders. "Help me. Don’t you want to get out of here?" Nikolas continues to mumble to himself about death, duty and honor. She stands and throws off the purple cloth so she can take a tour of the mausoleum. She notes the lone candle burning in the interior of the cold, limestone building, casting eerie shadows that play and dance along the rows of crypts. She grabs the candle and walks over to the door, leaving Nikolas lying in the enveloping darkness.
Carly tries the door, which is not locked, but she can’t seem to budge the door an inch. She lays the candle beside her on the concrete floor and uses both of her legs to push with all of her might. It’s no use, she thinks as she pants with the exertion. It’s stuck or wedged somehow. The crazy guy has us locked in here. Carly is filled with cold dread, and she shouts, "LET ME OUT OF HERE! I WANT OUT!" She holds herself with crossed arms as she looks around with teary eyes. Is there no other way out? I’ve got to find a weapon, so I can hit this guy over the head when he returns.
~*~*~*~
"So what are we doing here anyway?" Todd asks as he inspects his fingers and pulls on a hangnail, then makes an "ow" face.
Lucky replies, "We’re here to take care of the goon, remember, bladder-boy?"
"Watch that name-calling, Junior. Seems to me your old man has everything covered. I’m bored. Let’s get out of here. I have a newspaper to run."
"No, we have a newspaper to run," Lucky says as he looks sharply at Todd. "You used my money to finance half of it. I’m co-owner."
"But I have the brains," insists Todd as he raps a finger on his skull. Oooo, not the head. "I’m the massive intellect behind the paper."
"And your point is? You’ve got the wrong end if you want to call yourself massive. Mr. Butthead, that’s you. Bigus Buttus Egomanius."
Blair sighs loudly and shakes her head as she crosses her arms. "Am I going to have to separate you two? Being stuck with you guys takes me back to fifth grade, and believe me, I never want to return there. Why don’t I drop you off at the newspaper and you can fight all you want? I’m going back to the hotel room to watch the QVC jewelry special on cable. Now that my man has given me my money back," she coos as she tweaks Todd under the chin.
Todd makes a confused face as if to say, "What the h*ll?" He brushes her hand away, but she leans in to kiss him, and the two hold their liplock for several minutes, oblivious to the spy mission, the chilly night air, and one teenager watching them neck.
"Go for it," says Lucky, laughing.
Todd breaks the kiss to glare at Lucky. "Shut up, Beavis."
~*~*~*~
"Hey, boss, look what I got here," says a slow, deep bass voice.
Sorel turns to look at Guido, his extremely large, monumentally slow-witted thug. Frowns. "Who do you have there?"
Guido turns over the unconscious petite brunette, and Sorel’s temper lights up and explodes like a firecracker. "She’s not Carly Corinthos! She’s not even a blonde. You dolt! Why did you grab that girl?"
Guido shrugs his shoulders and raises his caveman eyebrows. "I dunno. We wasn’t able to find that Corinthos gal, and I thought I’d get you another hostage as backup."
Sorel leaps out of his chair with a red face. "Why weren’t you the one Corinthos offed? He took out my best man!" Sorel leans in closer to look at the girl’s face. His eyes turn devious, and a reptilian smile invades his features. "Hmm…" he says. "She might be useful. I’ve seen her around Corinthos plenty of times. We’ll use her as a bargaining chip." Sorel glances at Guido. "And you’re still stupid," he spits out.
~*~*~*~
"I demand to know why I’m being held at gunpoint in my own home," Stefan says. "And by my mother’s servant and sex slave, no less," he says in a superior, aristocratic tone of voice. Stefan’s defiant green eyes meet Andreas’ enraged brown ones.
"You’ll give me respect whether you want to or not!" Andreas shouts. He viciously backhands Stefan across his right cheek. Stefan’s head whips abruptly to the left, and his hand reaches for his red, stinging cheek. His dark, blond hair becomes disheveled with the force of the blow.
"Not," replies Stefan in a low, measured voice.
Andreas takes his seat again, and smoothes out the wrinkles in his trousers. "How did you think you’d get away with hiding the true heir for all these years?" he asks. When Stefan’s right eyebrow rises in alarm, Andreas continues. " How long did you keep Stavros locked away? Ten, fifteen, twenty years? How cruel and unbecoming of you, Stefan. And Brephos! My, my, he has no claim to the Empire at all, yet you’ve been passing him off as the Prince," says Andreas, sneering the last word. "The Prince of what? The Prince of Fools. He is your son, Stefan. No, not a prince at all."
Stefan takes on a defiant air. "And how do you think you know this? Or is this a drama of your own invention?"
"Hardly. Your mother told me everything – in a letter to be delivered to me on the date of her death." Andreas takes on a fake, surprised pose. "Oh," he says. "That’s right. Your mother is dead, killed by the bloody hands of her own grandchild. How truly Cassadine. And now I have the letter."
Stefan’s blood boils as he listens intently. His mind races as he considers what the ultimate truth may be and what his mother might have written in a letter. "What letter?" he asks.
"The letter that points out the small detail of Nikolas’ paternity, of course. The fact that you are Nikolas’ father, not Stavros."
Stefan’s face betrays his shock, and he is reduced to silence.
"You passed off Nikolas as Stavros’ son, not yours, because you wanted all of the power and control over the Empire. Why the look of surprise? Surely you didn’t underestimate your mother? Why, yes, I suppose you did." Andreas laughs. "So where is Stavros now? In the attic, locked away in an iron mask like a proper banished aristocrat? I wonder what he would do if he were free? Would his first action be to kill his only brother in revenge? Or would he first seek out his not-so-dead son to reclaim him?"
Stefan’s face blanches and turns a whiter shade of pale.
"Ah, yes, so that’s it," says Andreas. "Stavros has escaped and has taken Nikolas with him. Pity," he says pouting.
"How much money do you want?" asks Stefan as he reaches to the drawer in his desk for a checkbook.
Andreas laughs delightedly. "He’s trying to pay me off with my own money!"
Stefan slams his hand angrily on the top of his desk blotter. "Dammit, what are you after?" he growls.
"I’m after what’s rightfully mine," Andreas says as he reaches for the manila folder and opens it. There is a birth certificate on top of the piles of papers with two tiny baby footprints at the bottom of the certificate dated July 12, 1972. "You’re the historian. Surely you know how Cassadine lineage is determined. If the eldest son of the ruling Cassadine produces no heirs by his fiftieth year, the Empire reverts to the next relative who is kin to the previous ruler." Andreas sits back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and crosses his leg. "Here is where your hag mother worked her evil magic. Stavros is fifty-three years old and has no heir, thanks to you. You kept him locked up during his prime years."
"Your logic is flawed. My father has no living brothers," says Stefan. He smiles. "The Empire belongs to me!"
Andreas titters. "Your grandmother was a randy yet faithful woman. She lay with her husband even into her late middle age. Of course, it killed the old man, but not until she became pregnant one last time. Unfortunately for her, the pregnancy with twins was too much for her, and she died during delivery. It was a secret pregnancy, not very seemly for a fifty-one year old woman to be giving birth, not in those aristocratic circles. Better if the babies just appeared one day in a pram. And, unfortunately for the twins, Helena was the keeper of the secret. Every day she was there, talking, running errands, buttering up her mother-in-law. When the time came, she abducted the twins and placed them in an orphanage. What was her motive? As always, Helena’s motive was revenge. Revenge on Mikkos for cheating on her and being unfaithful. You see, Mikkos was the one true love of her life. And a woman scorned is a beautiful, dangerous being to behold. When the twins, Ari and Andreas Cassadine, came of age, she turned them into her sex slaves, objects to be toyed with and cast aside at will. Tortured if it suited her whim." Andreas’ eyes turn down sadly. "Mikkos never knew his younger brothers."
Andreas coughs as if to shoo away his demons, stands up and reaches for Stefan’s hand, taking it into his own and pumping it up and down merrily as his eyes wish death unto his nephew. "So, you see, Stefan, I am your uncle, and the Cassadine Empire is mine."
Stefan stares in shock at Andreas, his mouth slightly parted as if to protest. His eyes detect a slight movement behind Andreas, and his gaze grows bold.
Andreas suddenly jumps out of his chair and brings his hands up to the back of his neck. His eyes widen in pain, and he gasps very loudly and harshly as his body begins jerking uncontrollably. He falls rapidly to the floor and looks up into the dispassionate eyes of Nurse Christy, who brandishes an empty, long-needled syringe in her right hand, and a satisfied left hand on her hip.
Stefan looks gaily at the paisley-robed Nurse Christy and smiles broadly with delight. "You’ve exceeded my every expectationl."
Monster monkeys!
Kung fu fighters
Mad money comes in handy