Chapter 9
On the first floor of the Rutledge Street’s brownstone, just before his departure, Dante turned to Madame Minh and assured her, “I will return the Richards woman as promised in 48 hours. She will be trained to respond immediately to the commands stipulated in our contract.”
“Excellent. Mr. Tillman has loaded the woman into the box you’ve provided. It’s in the back of the van outside.”
“Thank you. When I return with her, I will demonstrate those new behaviors you’ve requested. Upon your satisfaction, I will be provided the remainder of my fee in cash as agreed.”
“Yes, yes, of course, of course. I will see you on Saturday night then at…” The Asian beauty glanced at her champagne-colored Rolex Datejust, “10 p.m. Good luck.”
“Luck has no part in this.”
Walking into the living room from outside, Rick Tillman uttered his opinion, “Don’t be so sure. Luck always plays a part in things in my experience.”
“In your experience, it would,” Dante replied with a sniff. “I eliminate such factors where I find them. And have backup contingency plans ready if and when any new parameters occur.”
“You can’t plan for everything,” Rick countered.
“I’m sure you can’t,” Dante Alamordo said with a haughty lift of his chin. He then nodded at Minh and left, pulling the outer door closed behind him.
“What a dick!” Rick declared.
“That’s the third opinion from you in a row that wasn’t asked for or required.”
“Doesn’t make it untrue.”
“Be that as it may, keep them to yourself in the future. Now let’s go to the upstairs parlor and discuss our plans for the heist. Guilford is waiting for us with the map of the museum.”
An unconscious Sue is curled up in a ball on her side, tightly bound with blue nylon cord with her hands behind her back and a matching blue ball gag jammed in her mouth. Tucked inside some sort of crate, her shapely form is surrounded by foam cushioning that absorbs the bumps and shakes of the van that is finding occasional potholes as it journeys from Brooklyn to Manhattan.
The knockout gas that was used to subdue her into a heavy sleep is keeping her there; the restraints and gag merely a prudent backup should it wear off during transport to Dante’s soundproofed condominium. But Dante Allamordo is a professional and he’s quite sure his dosage is more than sufficient to keep Invisible Woman down for the count throughout the 30-minute trip to his place. He’s just a belt and suspenders kind of guy. Indeed, there’s not even a flicker of eyelash as the famous heroine lies completely inert while she’s transported from borough to borough like some shrink-wrapped ham on a deli delivery truck.
When Dante ultimately pulls the panel van up to the delivery entrance of his condo skyscraper on 55th Street and 7th Avenue, he gets out of the vehicle with a sigh. He is met by the dock supervisor, the very loquacious Geoffrey Timmins.
“Hey there, Mr. Allamordo. Got another new toy for your apartment? What’s it this time?”
“Hello, Geoffrey. Yes, I’m afraid I can’t resist a good deal. This is a bass speaker unit for my home theater suite. It should make the rumble of explosions during any big movie finale feel like the building is shaking. Have you got your dolly available so we can unload it?”
“Sure thing, Mr. A.”
Horizon House is a very posh, very exclusive glass and steel luxury condo building that rises 55 stories, with Dante’s suite located on the 45th floor. He’s very pleased with his snooty view, looking down on the lesser owners occupying shorter buildings in the neighborhood. His shady business of profound psychological training has earned him millions through the years and he’s not ashamed to flash his cash when necessary. In fact, he flashes a hundred-dollar bill into Geoffrey’s palm as the garrulous worker gingerly finishes unloading the huge speaker on the flawless parquet floor of his screening room.
“Wow, thanks, Mr. A. That speaker must be pretty darn powerful. It’s heavy as all get out.”
“Yes, well, like I said, only the best, right?”
Looking blank for the moment, Timmons then reacts to the C-note with enthusiasm again. “Right. Of course. So, if you ever need anything, just call down to the dock. I’ll be on it pronto!”
“I appreciate that, Geoffrey. For now, your departure will be more than enough.”
“Huh, oh, right sure thing.”
Dante sees the nosey worker to the front door of his apartment and locks it behind the man, giving him a good fifteen seconds before doing so in order to not raise suspicions. The apartment is one of three occupied residences on the floor. The fourth one, situated next to Dante’s is still unoccupied. For now, that has been a balm to the psychologist but inasmuch as he has installed triple soundproofing in his place using private contractors, his worries about any noisy activities that might gain attention are far and few between. In fact, his training area has been layered with two additional layers of soundproofing. One could blast the 1812 Overture in that area of his condo or unleash a flock of screaming gulls and not a soul on the floor above or below would raise an eyebrow.
Humming happily to himself, Dante returns to the screening room, withdraws a hex screwdriver from his pants pocket and quickly retracts the four screws securing the eighth-inch cherrywood back of the base speaker. He lays this on the floor to reveal the still figure of Sue Richards encased in foam sleeping like a baby. Though the pacifier has been replaced with a bright blue ball gag, the female he sees before him is just as helpless as any infant.