12. A shocking event
'...., it's a pity, isn't it? But I promise I'll try to put it off as long as possible, you can count on that.'
Jean-Pierre had followed the conversation of the masked leader with growing fear. He could hardly believe the man spoke the truth when he promised to release Jean-Pierre the moment he had Katarina in custody. Not after the man had said only a few moments ago that he wouldn't leave his prison alive.
After the disturbing telephone conversation they left Jean-Pierre, it's true not tied anymore, behind in the little room where he would spend the last moments of his life. During the first moments, he felt the panic well up in his throat. Katarina would die if she got in the hands of this psychotic. What has she done to this guy that he cherished his revenge so much? He greatly doubted Katarina had intentionally hurt or done wrong to someone. There were other legal means to fight or punish someone when there was an injustice done.
Would their life come to an end this way? If Katarina went to the open place in the forest, and he knew she would go, she was doomed. He didn't doubt Katarina would risk her life to save him. After all, he would do the same. He had paced up and down the narrow room for a while, but now he rested against one of the walls bending through his legs. He took his head between his hands and closed his eyes.
His life with Katarina, their adventures, all those beautiful moments flew before his eyes. Their short time of happiness, their love for each other were the most beautiful things from his life. Even though it was only for a brief period, he would always be grateful for it. He felt tears in his eyes and then he realized this wasn't the right way. He ground his teeth and pulled himself together.
He had to find a way to warn her. His life didn't matter. If needed, he was killed trying it. In any case, it was better than being powerless and useless in this dungeon. But how?
He had to use his common sense and think calmly about this. Panicking wouldn't help Katarina. He looked around. There wasn't a lot he could use in this place where they kept him prisoner. Beside the chair, he was sitting on, there was a heavy piece of furniture he hardly could move on the rough concrete. Then there was the free-standing luminaire! Maybe he could fabricate something out of it. If there was a lamp, it meant there was electricity too. At that moment, he saw the electric socket a few meters from the metal door where the electric wire was plugged in.
He tried to remember the few concepts of electricity he had learned in the past. The simplicity of the plan that popped up in his mind could practically be no problem for him. Jean-Pierre pulled the wire from the free-standing luminaire out of the power point and started to disassemble the lamp. He removed the top side of the wire out of the lamp socket and after that, it was easy to pull the electric wire out of the stand.
A smile appeared on his face. The switch by which the lamp was put on and off would do it. Otherwise, Katarina would be lost. He split the double electric wire and connected one of the wires to the metal door handle of the prison door. The switch was off so he wouldn't electrocute himself. If he used both of the two parts connecting them to the handle, he would induce a short circuit, he remembered. That wouldn't serve his cause. With the one tire to the handle, the switch in his hand, on the other side the electric plug in the power point and a bit of luck, he would escape from here.
Now it was only waiting for someone to open the door. But what if they let him sit here till they had Katarina imprisoned? His little plan, even if successful, would be in vain. He had to try luring them inside. Jean-Pierre put his ear against the door, but he couldn't hear anything. The door was either too thick or there was simply no one on the other side.
He started to yell and to shout, but occasionally he listened if he heard something. Jean-Pierre didn't know how long he was already busy, but his voice started to give away when suddenly he heard a noise. He made an effort and cried till his voice was raspy. He just hoped for a piece of arrogance with this men when he shouted: 'Cowards, I'll give you a lesson, I'll beat the crap out of you, a bunch of camouflaged psychopaths that you are. Come in here, if you sissies have the nerve?
While he yelled, he held the switch in his hands. It didn't take long before he heard the door unlocking. He kept the switch out of sight behind his back, and with a beating heart, he waited.
The door handle slowly moved down, and the door went slightly open.
'Finally, there you are, coward. Wimp, psychopath, you're just a worm.' He said it all with the most persuasiveness he had in him, and with the intention to distract the man's attention of the wire that ran over the ground to the door handle. And it worked. The man behind the door got an angry look in his eyes and a grin upon his lips. But that wasn't not so important. He noticed the man had still his hand on the door handle and Jean-Pierre smiled.
The smile on the man's face disappeared, and instead, a glance of incomprehension appeared in his eyes. As fast as he could, Jean-Pierre got the switch from behind his back and pushed it.
'Oops,' he said while shocks ran through the body of the man. He knew his plan was a success when he saw the white of the man's eyes. Jean-Pierre pulled the wire with a yank out of the power-point down into the room where they had imprisoned Jean-Pierre.
He searched the pockets of the corpse and found what he secretly had hoped. A mobile phone. Without lingering, he unfolded it and saw he had no reach. Either they were here to far from a GSM aerial or they were too deep underground there was no reach.
He searched the pockets of the corpse and found what he secretly had hoped. A mobile phone. Without lingering, he unfolded it and saw he had no reach. Maybe they were too far from a GSM aerial, or they were too deep underground that they couldn't connect to one.
Jean-Pierre looked around the corner of his cell and started to look for the way out.
© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere