Lori and Jonah A Seduction Ch 02
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The CatalystChapter 46: Jonah Rocks The Boat free porn video
[I’ve got a blindfold on and I think I’m on a boat somewhere. Can you hear me?...”]
“Yes Sarah! I hear you. Are you alright?”“Yes, I’m scared! What do they want with me?”
“I don’t know, sweetie, Dad is on the phone with the State Police. You remember Major Gregory, right?”
“Yes. Is he going to help me?”
“If he can, if not, he knows who CAN help. Listen, Sarah, I’m two hours from home, but we’re headed there as fast as we can. YOU’VE gotta stay calm, okay? Try and get them to take your blindfold off. I need to see where you are. Say you’ve gotta pee and keep asking why they took you. I need to hear voices if I can, too. Has anyone said anything to you?”
“NO! I’m tied to a chair. It must be bolted down, ‘cause I can’t move it when I shake it around.”
“Try screaming. If you’re still at the dock, they’ll have to try and keep you quiet. Do you feel like you’re moving?”
“No, it just moves a little sometimes and I can smell the water. I heard boat horns a few times.”
“Good girl, Sarah. We need all the information like that we can get. Make sure you don’t talk out loud to me, or any of us. Your gift could be the only thing that saves you.”
I felt her screaming and immediately somebody told her to shut up or they would just kill her now. I couldn’t make out the accent. It was either Italian or old Chicago. When she asked what they wanted, the guy said that the cops weren’t going to pay $10 Million for just anybody and their boss wanted his boat and drugs back.
That sent Jim scrambling to figure out who had been busted recently and had a boat confiscated. So far, no ransom demands had been announced, but, without inside knowledge, we were still in the dark.
Mary said that Gracie had gone into work to relay information faster.
We were still half an hour away from Dupage County Airport, when Gracie flashed that Jim had talked to Fred Callas, our friend at the Chicago FBI office. Fred said they were still at a loss, as far as who had lost a boat to any law enforcement recently. He added it was possible the CPD (Chicago Police Department) had confiscated one and he would try to get his contact with them to shed some light. Janet was at the Chicago Tribune’s building, waiting on any ransom demands.
Harry Schofield, Sarah’s boss and mentor, was having his people searching records, trying to help.
The CPD, Jim informed us, were not always very forthcoming with information. There was so much corruption, they never knew who to trust. Aldermen, cops and even the District attorney were rumored to be ‘on the take’.
We had just landed, when we caught a break. The Coast Guard had informed Agent Callas, Fred, that several months ago, they had a run in with CPD’s shore patrol over a boat that had been confiscated by CPD after they towed it to shore. It was a 60-foot yacht that had become disabled and needed a tow to DuSable Harbor. CPD immediately impounded it, refusing to even let the USGS investigate it.
It had crooked politics written all over it.
Sarah had been staying calm, and was sure they were still docked. They let her pee once, but the bastards went with her and didn’t remove her blindfold.
It was now 4:00PM and we were getting frustrated that no progress had been made.
Bob started freaking out.
“Oh shit, FUCK. I’ve got a wedding that starts at seven that I forgot all about! I gotta get my stuff, get changed, go get Jessica and be all set up in Schaumburg by 6:30! Charlie, I don’t know what to do. These people are counting on me; I can’t just blow them off. I can’t blow off Sarah either!”
Linda hugged him, “Spinner Bear, I’ll go with you. You pack up your black flight suit and stick it in the van. Just get us started, quickly show us how your stuff works and if you gotta help Charlie and Greg, you can be there in like 10 minutes. It’ll be nighttime, so just fly towards the Sears tower at Warp 7! Jessica and I can do the rest. We’re NOT music novices you know.”
Bob was hugging and kissing her, “I know sweetheart. What would I do without you? I’ll tell Jessica that something came up and I’ll spend some quality time with her next Friday. Charlie, will that be alright?”
Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. We don’t even know where Sarah is for sure yet. We might not for a while. Go and do your thing. I know you’ll be listening. You don’t want some poor newlyweds to go without music on the biggest night of their lives.”
“Thanks Bro, I’ll keep my ears on, you keep me posted. If you need me, I’ll BE there in a heartbeat, I promise.”
Bob and Linda hustled to their room to change for their wedding job.
Greg and I had wanted to use our State Trooper disguises and go look for Sarah ourselves. Jim said that the State Police had no jurisdiction in the City, unless it was specially called for by the Governor. Our current Governor, being a product of Chicago politics, made that kind of cooperation out of the question.
Fred discovered, that a Mob boss wanna be, had set up shop in 1983. He was loosely affiliated with the Latin Kings, by supplying drugs for their street pushers and girls for their strip clubs. His name was ‘Little Tony’ D’woplicksmi. The rumor was, a rival gang had tipped off CPD that Little Tony was bringing drugs down from Canada, using his boat to deliver shipments to Chicago. Apparently, Little Tony had also been using the Mississippi River and Illinois River as thoroughfares from Mexico.
CPD, using the tip, confiscated the boat from the Coast Guard, once they entered DuSable Harbor, claiming that the CG’s jurisdiction ended at the entrance to the harbor. The CG argued that it didn’t, but also didn’t need a turf war over it, so they let it go. The rival gang had a new toy now.
The CG DID, however, say that Little Tony owned another boat, the ‘Italian Mare’, a 55-foot yacht and it WAS docked at slip A-17 in DuSable Harbor. Fred said the FBI had a good relationship with the CG, often working together to navigate around Chicago politics.
They had been contacted by Fred, but since there was no proof yet of a crime having been committed, they could only wait. They couldn’t even keep surveillance, because they were spread so thin this time of the year. They WOULD notify all CG vessels that any incident involving the ‘Italian Mare’, would be treated with the utmost suspicion, and NOT be taken to any Chicago ports.
Greg and I, using just our rubber mask part of the Trooper disguise, were headed for the lake. As much as I wanted to fly, it was still only 5:00PM and it would be nearly impossible to land anywhere unobserved. I did take my black flight suit and helmet with me, knowing I would have to fly at night. Dad kept telling us NOT to go off half-cocked. He kept reminding us that we DID have help. He and TJ were meeting Fred, Jim and Gracie at the FBI office downtown.
Just before we parked at the harbor, Sarah said the boat was moving. She felt it backing up and turning around. She heard hushed voices saying they were heading towards Winthrop Harbor to make a pick-up of some kind. She wasn’t sure, but she thought there were more people on the boat now.
Dad said he heard her and was relaying the information. He said we should go up Lake Shore Drive, the 40 some miles and we would be there before the boat would. Sarah said she felt a little better, now that we thought we knew where she was and were trying to help her.
We were about halfway there when Sarah said they were letting her eat. They untied her left hand and said she could take her blindfold off when she heard the door close. I heard the bastard tell her, “When you hear us knock, you better put it back on, you little red headed tramp, because if you see any of our faces, we’ll have to kill you. But don’t worry, you’ll be having company soon. If you do what you’re told and the cops pay up, you just might not have to join the rest of the girls turning tricks. You may as well enjoy your 5-hour boat ride. The ransom should be paid by then, so you’ll either be free or turning tricks. Either way, you may as well have some fun.”
I was freaking. Dad had us check the Winthrop Harbormasters log, to see where they would be docking. The 5-hour cruise bit had us concerned. It was less than 2 hours from here to DuSable. Where were they planning on going after this? The harbormaster showed no reservations for an ‘Italian Mare’. They couldn’t even stop here temporarily without a reservation. What were they planning on doing?
We decided to wait here, to see if Sarah could enlighten us before setting off for ‘who knows where’. It was nearing 7:00 when Sarah said they were stopping. She could tell by the sun in the porthole, they had been sailing north, but the porthole was so high up, she couldn’t see any landmarks. I heard the knock and she scrambled to put her blindfold back on. I heard numerous, high-pitched voices entering the room. The bastard who had talked before, told her to take her blindfold off. He said the cops were dicking the boss around and she could save her own life, if she helped keep her roommates calm till they got to Calumet...
Now, I at least knew where they were going and it made sense.
The far Southside of Chicago, where the Latin Kings were rumored to have “Members Only” night clubs in old warehouses they could rent cheap. Girls could scream and no one would hear them and crooked cops could do their thing unimpugned.
Dad said they must have rendezvoused with another boat on the lake, so the passengers could be exchanged without creating suspicions.
I wanted to put my suit on and try to find the boat, but, three hours in the air, after this morning, would really wear me out. Besides, it wasn’t dark yet. My black suit would stick out like a sore thumb.
Dad said, that Channel 5 News had just announced that Chicago Tribune reporter, Sarah Reynolds had been kidnapped by persons unknown and was being held for $10 million ransom. They said that the Chicago Police Department had announced that their ‘Get Tough On Crime’ policy made them unable to meet that demand.
Basically the sons a bitches had abandoned her.
Janet said, that shortly after that, the Chicago Tribune had received a call demanding ransom for Sarah’s safe return. The owner of the Tribune offered a $2 million ransom, saying they couldn’t come up with any more than that by the deadline of 10 PM tonight. The kidnappers had hung up, after saying they would think about it and call them back.
Dad said the FBI felt the kidnappers would probably accept that amount, as it would be much better than nothing. Our whole group, along with Fred Callas, were headed over to Tribune Tower to set up a phone tap on the return call. The good thing was, the Chicago police were now out of the picture. At least that’s what we were hoping.
Sarah told us there were now 12 girls in the room with her, ranging in age from 14 to 19. The girls were all bound, hand and foot. The guy who threatened Sarah, had untied her so she could better help keep the other girls calm. They all sensed the hell that wasn’t far ahead.
Four of them appeared to be Russian and spoke only broken English. Five of them spoke no English at all and appeared to be speaking Spanish. The other three girls had all been kidnapped from an orphanage in Idaho. They were the youngest ones, two were only 14 and one was 15 years old.
From what I could see, the girls had all been drugged, as their eyes had that ‘far away’ look to them. Sarah did manage to look out the port hole but, since the boat was now headed south, all we could see was the lake. I DID get a look at the guy. He appeared to be Italian and about 5’3” tall and very heavy, probably 275 plus.
I had Sarah put her ear to the door, to see if we could hear other voices. I could hear at least 4 distinct voices and realized Little Tony was onboard. Three of the other voices kept calling him ‘boss’. That meant he had to be using a mobile phone to make the ransom calls. Dad already figured that out, from listening in to us. He said that also meant they would have to stay fairly close to shore to get a signal.
Greg and I were now driving back south on Lake Shore Drive. As soon as it got dark enough, I was going to get out and hit the sky. I was planning on making a speed run to Calumet, then turn around and come back if I hadn’t spotted the boat yet. There were hundreds of boats on the lake since it was Saturday and the weather was nice.
We got back as far as the Sears Tower, when Bob flashed that he was on his way. We turned west on Balbo Avenue and I bailed out of the car. There was a wooded area that I could hide in to wait for Bob, just south of Buckingham Fountain.
Dad flashed that the kidnappers had accepted the 2-Mil and TJ was headed to make the drop. He was to get to a payphone at 63rd Street and Martin Luther King Drive and await further instructions.
They were taking him toward Calumet Harbor.
He was alone, but did have a mobile phone.
When Bob said he could see the fountain, I shot up to meet him. It was now dark and we were just a bit higher than the Sears Tower, hidden by the night. We were pretty sure the boat was still north of us, but flew south anyway, just to be sure.
Calumet Harbor, is actually on a branch of the Calumet River. Dad told us our night helmets had some neat toys that our daytime version did not. The telescope area was also an infra-red scope. With the push of a button on the side of the helmet, we could see how many people were on the boat and where they were.
We hurried to the harbor. We saw several yachts large enough, but, no ‘Italian Mare’. We tried out our thermal imaging and determined the boats here were empty.
We knew from Sarah, that the boat was still headed south. We headed north, looking for boats with a cluster of images on the port side.
We were almost back to the Sears Tower when we spotted them.
We flew past them, so we could approach from the rear undetected. The back of the boat was lit up with small floodlights on the name, ‘Italian Mare’.
The egotistical bastard was proud of his boat.
We decided to chill and get a good feel for how to proceed. Suddenly Sarah flashed, terrified, “They AREN’T going to let me go! As soon as the courier gets the money, they’re going to kill me!”
We had to stop TJ from making the drop.
Dad was calling him, advising he was now on a capture and detain mission instead of an exchange. Two sets of Agents had been shadowing him on parallel streets and were now set to ambush the courier. Dad said it was up to Bob and I now. He urged us not to kill anyone if we could help it.
I told him, “If Sarah was safe, maybe. If not, then it would be SCORCHED EARTH. It was all up to Lil’ Tony.”
We determined the pilot of the boat was by himself and there were six others on the boat, in various locations. I flew over to the porthole and flashed Sarah to look out the window. Her face lit up when she saw me wave, “Is that you behind that scary helmet?”
“Yes, see?” I said, as I lifted my visor.
“Eeek! That’s not you.”
I forgot I was wearing my red-headed mask from Fridays press conference. “Yes, it is sweetie, I’m wearing a disguise.”
“You look like that red-headed cop. Hee-hee, I’m glad you told me. Oh God!“
She screamed, as the door to their room flew open and four men came charging in, followed by Little Tony.
“I feel like sampling that little red-haired pussy now. I want me some celebrity pussy before it gets cold.”
The short, fat bastard was laughing maniacally, unzipping his pants. His four goons had guns drawn, daring anybody to resist.
Bob flashed, “Get out of the way, he’s about to go for a ride.”
The instant I cleared above the boat, Bob jerked the wheel out of the pilot’s hand and spun it wildly to the left. That made the boat spin around like a jet ski. The pilot hit his head and fell unconscious, as the boat began turning in a tight circle.
I could see Tony and his boys staggering topside, to see what the hell happened.
The instant one stepped on the deck, he found himself hurtling skyward, screaming all the way. I may have thrown the first one a little too high, as the second one was still screaming, when I heard the first one hit the water.
One by one, they took their turns, doing quadruple gainers before splashing down. When Lil’ Fat Tony got on deck, he still had his pathetic little pecker sticking out of his fly.
I couldn’t resist. I snatched it hard and sent him flying across the deck, crashing into the railing, knocking him out cold. Bob went to the bridge and cut off the engines. He tied up the captain, so he couldn’t reach any of the controls. Then he went to make sure the girls were okay, while I dealt with Fat Tony.
I tied him up to the railing, before throwing water on him, to wake him up. He looked into my wide eyes, with his opened even wider. “Fat Tony, you little fat bastard, you have thousands of bugs crawling all over you! They won’t stop until you confess every crime you’ve ever committed to the FBI’s Agent, Fred Callas. DO YOU HEAR ME!?”
In a small voice he said, “Yes! Oh Goddd, make the bugs go away. Please. I HATE BUGS.”
“Not until you finish confessing and sign the confession, waving your rights to an attorney. Once you sign the confession, the bugs will all go away, and you’ll be back to normal. But not until. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
“Yes! I’ll confess! ANYTHING to make these bugs stop crawling on me.”
Dad flashed, “You are one evil spirit, Son. But I like it. I like it a lot!” He was chuckling.
Bob made a distress call to the Coast Guard. “Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is the ‘Italian Mare’, we’re dead in the water and beginning to sink. Little Tony D’woplicksmi, is tied up on the rear of the boat and is pleading to confess his crimes to the FBI. Do you read me?”
“Yes ‘Italian Mare’, what is your location? Over.”
“We’re just north of the Calumet River, on the Indiana side of the Lake. Over.” Bob said.
The Coast Guard Captain chuckled, “Nice. We have you on radar, and we’re 2 minutes out. Do we have permission to board? Over.”
“Absolutely! Be advised, I am taking Miss Sarah Reynolds with me to safety. There are 12 young ladies aboard, who were captives of Little Tony and his boys. Oh, there’s probably 5 of his cohorts somewhere out there, trying to swim to shore, they should be picked up too, if you can find them.”
“Who am I speaking to? Over.”
“This is Jonah, the Invisible Man. It’s been nice chatting with you, but, I see you coming and I’m NOT very photogenic, if you know what I mean. Arrivederci, Mon Ami. Oh, FBI agent Terrence Johnson is in the area. Contact him on his cell phone at 555 – 3456 and he’ll arrange to take the prisoners off your hands. He’s expecting it will be somewhere in Indiana. I understand you and Chicago’s, ‘less than finest’, don’t play well together.”
Lesley
- 17.08.2020
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