about to start shouting at the man but thought better of it. He had heard enough horror stories about prison. For the first time in several days, Corbett remained silent. As he had done with Steinwood, the large man secured Corbett’s wrists with a zip tie, shackled his ankles, covered his mouth with duct tape, and put a burlap bag over his head.
“Make one sound, and I’ll stuff you like an Idaho potato,” the man warned.
* * *
Marcus kept fading in and out of semiconsciousness. Lights. Lots of them. In his mental haze, he saw what looked like snowmen and circus tents floating around him. He could not feel anything except the cold fluid that was being pushed into the back of his hand. The last thing he remembered was Franny O’Rourke standing over him with a cinder block. He wasn’t sure if he was dead and had gone to hell. Someone appeared in his peripheral vision and shined what seemed like a laser into his left eye. Then the right. There was gibberish he could not understand. He tried to speak, but his lips were swollen shut. He was convinced he was in hell when he heard the shrill voice of Norma as she flew into the room in a rage.
“What in the blazes have you done, you arsehole? Where is my jewelry?” She was almost on top of him before someone was able to pull her away from the ICU bed. “You’d better get it back, or I’ll unplug all these machines!”
The nurse dragged her out into the hallway. “We’re sorry, miss, but this man is in very bad shape. It’s best he doesn’t have visitors.”
Norma kept yelling that she had rights, and that they couldn’t keep her away from her husband, but the constable who guarded Marcus’s door informed her otherwise. If Marcus were able, he would have laughed at Norma’s expulsion from his room. If he could speak, he would have also told her to cheese off.
* * *
Steinwood and Corbett were kept separated, but they were both on their way to the same facility, where they would once again be held in isolation in secluded quarters. But quarters wasn’t quite an accurate description of the place where they would be incarcerated. The cells they had previously occupied would seem like the Waldorf Astoria compared to their new ones.
The men were guided into two different vans, and their shackles were cuffed to a bolt on the floor. Corbett started moaning. No one said anything. In the other vehicle, Steinwood listened for any clues as to where they were or where they might be going. None of what was happening to him seemed real.
Corbett started planning his revenge in his head. As soon as he had the opportunity, the shit would hit the fan. He had essentially been abducted by the FBI agents, taken to an undisclosed location, not given access to a lawyer, and treated inhumanely. He would sue every branch of the government. Cruel and unusual punishment. What he didn’t know was that all his property was frozen, and the Live-Life-Long company was virtually out of existence.
The drive took about four hours, during which there was no sound of any sort coming from anyone. No cell phones ringing, no radio noise. The moaning had stopped. It was a long, dark journey to parts unknown.
When the vans pulled up to Myra’s farmhouse, everything was eerily quiet except for the sound of the gravel beneath the tires. The men unloaded the vans one at a time to assure that neither prisoner knew the other was there. Corbett was removed first. His warders uncuffed the shackles from the bolt, pulled him out of his seat, and steered him to the back door of the kitchen, the same kitchen where Charles prepared the luscious food he cooked. But Corbett would not be a dinner guest. Not ever, and probably not anywhere else ever again. Myra nodded at the guards, Avery Snowden’s more muscular employees, indicating they could leave. Kathryn grabbed Corbett’s arm and walked him down the stone steps.
On the other side of the basement, where the underground tunnels were hidden, there were two rooms. Dungeons would be a better description. Each had one bare lightbulb, a thin mattress, and a bucket for urinating and defecating. The setup was much the same as the men’s previous accommodations, except a little smaller. Kathryn put Corbett in one of the closet-sized spaces, told him to sit down, and informed him that