The Good Deed ~COMPLETE~

Chapter 16: Dirty Laundry

I was fairly confident Jacob would be asleep. Ivan had knocked on the door extremely hard and he received no reply. I opened the door and slowly entered with caution anyway. Mark stayed in the hall to watch for the returning guards. Just past the bathroom, in the open area of the room, a bed held the knocked out millionaire.

Jacob Scholtz did not look how I had imagined. He was much older; maybe in his late 60's, a bit pudgy and balding. He certainly didn't look like someone who could kill you with two fingers.

He snored softly and had some of his lunch in the creases of his mouth. On the lunch cart, his plate revealed he had only taken a couple of bites of the drugged mashed potatoes. Hopefully it was enough.

As I had been informed, a black leather briefcase with a stainless steel handle dangled from his wrist off the bed. The briefcase was a specially designed, custom case. It had a four wheel combination lock and two key locks keeping its mysterious contents guarded.

My brother and I had been lucky thus far. With only a few exceptions, just about every part of our plan had gone our way. At the sight of Scholtz passed out and the briefcase attached to his wrist, I realized something vital had slipped our attention; the fact that we had not planned for everything...

The hand cuffs were polished carbon steel; one of the strongest metals in the world. We had no key to open them. Marks bag of tools had been taken and I didn't have a clue on how to pick locks, much less the patience or the time. I frantically searched Jacobs pockets, praying for a key: A bill fold, a cell phone, a plastic container of orange flavored Tic-Tacs, a bottle of Advil, but no key.

Panicking, I called for my brother to help. "Mark, get in here."

Mark rushed in, "What's up?"

"The cuffs, we don't have a key, or any way to open them." I got the chills again.

"I could pick it, I'd eventually get." Mark offered.

Eventually, could take too long. "We don't have time for that, the guards will be back any minute."

Mark thought for a moment and then said, "I'll be right back." Mark ran out of the room.

"Where are you going?" I finished my question just as the door closed behind him.

My nausea returned. The thought of the bodyguards returning while I was in the room made me feel ill. I'd be trapped and eventually, Scholtz would wake up and probably kill me with his two finger death punch. Or, the Dragovic brothers would kick down the door, rip my arms and legs off and beat me to death with them.

Where the hell did Mark go? I looked out the window of the second floor room. I contemplated jumping and I'd possibly survive with only a broken leg. However, a closer look at the windows proved that plan wouldn't work. The windows were fixed and didn't open. The stress of my current situation had me sweating. I couldn't keep my mind from thinking of all the terrible things I would endure, if the guards returned to find me.

Then, BANG, BANG, BANG. Someone knocked at the door. I froze.

"Joe? Open up!" It was Mark.

I opened the door and Mark pushed in a large laundry cart.

"What are you doing?" I was freaked out.

"Come on, help me pick him up." Mark ordered.

"You want to put him in the laundry cart?"

"You want that briefcase don't you?"

"Yeah, but... " I couldn't think of a reason why not to help him.