Adventures of Simon (m/m) - The Mummy's Moment - Halloween 2022

[Bondwriter]

I'll repost here the "classic" adventures of Simon, starting with the genesis story, Encounter of a Loony Kind, and the Birthday Party story.

Encounter of a Loony Kind

Simon O'Malley had been walking for three days now, and he was starting to feel very weary. It was close to sunset, on this day of June, 1932. He must have walked at least fifty miles since he had left his parents' home, a very small farm in Kansas. They were no longer able to support him, he had eventually understood, so he had decided it was high time he would hit the road and try his luck somewhere else. After all, he had turned twelve five months previous, so he was old enough to take care of himself.

His parents had not chased him, but he knew they would be better off without him. He had not cried as they had parted, but his mother had when he had told her he would come back a rich man, and that he would see to it that they would never lack anything anymore. He was heading west; he thought about going to California, which he had read about in the numerous dime novels his father had collected when he was a kid himself. For the last three years, buying books had been out of the question, but he had learned all these stories by heart.

He had been very hot that afternoon, and he had drunk the last drop out of his leather flask one hour ago. Thanks to the straw hat covering his red hair and fair skin, he was not completely burned. Still, he was very thirsty, but he had not passed a single house or farm to get some water. The little food he had was long gone, and he was feeling hungry as well. Then, as he turned around a small hill, he saw a camp in the distance.

Six or seven caravans, from what he could see. As he came nearer, he made out it was seven, and there was some big top behind: this had to be a circus, like the one his father had taken him to for his seventh birthday. He stepped into the circle formed by the horse-drawn caravans; there was a camp fire in the middle, with about ten people gathered around, sitting on logs.

They all turned to him; he smiled: "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Simon O'Malley, and I would like to know if you have some water and maybe a crumb of bread to spare."
"Good evening, Simon O'Malley!" a woman said. She had long black hair and a long colored dress. "About the water, there is no problem, but for the crumb of bread, well…"
The other people laughed.
"We're not making fun of you, boy," an older woman said, "but what Irma means, is that we don't have much to give you. Here, food is earned; and earned the hard way."
"I could work, you know. Back at the farm, I worked!" Simon said in a serious, determined tone.

"I guess I could do with an assistant." The man who had spoken was some rather old guy, with graying hair at the temples. He was dressed in loose overalls and a whitish shirt.
"What do you need an assistant for, Sir?" Simon asked modestly.
"I'm a magician, and I need someone to hand me props, to get in the box to be sawed in half and to help out in escape acts…"
It all sounded very glamorous to Simon and not too difficult also. He smiled.

"I would be glad to be an assistant, then…"
"Good, then you should start training as of tomorrow. Let's give a round of applause to Stilo the Great's new assistant!"
They all clapped their hands and cheered, and Simon got introduced to all of them: Irma the contortionist, Dave and Brett, the clowns whose stage names were Pippo and Zekko, Maria the rope dancer, Igor, Boris and Marishka the acrobats, and Billy and Liz, who were also known as Sabu the Bengali Knife Thrower and Princess Deridjah. Simon was quite pleased to have been able to find a position so fast, and in show business on top of that!

So Simon's life as a circus artist began on that day. He quickly found out it really was hard work. There was not only the artistic part, that was long hours of practice every day, but also all the day-to-day running of the circus: fetching water and wood for the fire, cooking, pitching the big top, taking care of the horses, the bunnies and the doves, cleaning… But it was all done in good fun, and he soon felt also part of "the family". It was very different from the farm, but he felt really good with everybody.

It was also fun living in a caravan, and moving out every week or two. He was quick and skillful, and soon he was able to perform basic card tricks, and to have small objects disappear. He was not one hundred percent successful, though, and for public performances, he had to limit himself to handing out the props to Stilo. But as the two of them got along quite well, the act got better and better, Simon drawing a lot of attention and doing most of the talk so it was easier for the Great Magician to fool the audience. Simon had also developed a taste for thus being in the limelight, and he was quite a nice sidekick to Stilo the Great.

Stilo was getting a bit too old for escape art. He was drawing close to fifty, and he could no longer do any of the most impressive stunts; but as Simon was very interested in the late Harry Houdini, his magician friend had started teaching him the basics of escape art. "Your mind is the key that will get you out of any restraints," Stilo had told him quoting his role model. And he added: "That, a little flexibility, and some skill…" But Simon had a real talent; after a few weeks, he had acquired the ability to get out of handcuffs, or to get free with hands tied behind him with ropes. That's how it became part of the act, at its end. There were some good reactions from the audience, but Simon felt it was a bit half-hearted.

"You know, Stilo, " he had said after his third escape art talents display, "this escape thing is OK, but I think we could make it more impressive."
"And, how could we?" Stilo wondered.
Simon explained that until he could perform more impressive stunts, there should be more drama to the act; as they could not really tie him up much tighter, because he wouldn't know how to escape, and failure was out of the question, maybe they could have a couple costumes and prop changes that would make it more striking. Stilo's traditional magician costume made him look smart, all dressed in black, and with his cape lined in red, and he took particular care in waxing his moustache and coloring his hair in black for the shows. But Simon's Oriental costume, even though it worked wonders for the magic tricks, did not look that good for the escape art.

The next day, as they were about to start practicing, after having put away the bunnies and the doves, Simon went inside the caravan to put his performance costume on. He had had a blue satiny costume made for him, consisting in a blue shirt, and matching pants. A cape in a slightly darker shade of blue and a top hat completed his magician assistant's attire. But as he got out from the caravan, he was wearing way less! He was just clad in tight blue briefs, obviously cut in the same material as his shirt was, and nothing else…

"What does this mean, Simon?" Stilo asked, puzzled by the boy's outfit.
"I've seen female magician assistants in your magazine. They're always scantily clad. And Houdini often was wearing just briefs. It shows the audience we do not conceal anything to cut out the ropes or a key to unlock the cuffs."
"If it makes you feel better," Stilo sighed. After all, it could add to the drama. He was getting ready to tie the boy's hands behind his back to practice the first act, but he saw Simon holding something else. It was a red ball, made of shiny rubber, through which a thin leather strap was threaded.

"And what is this, Stilo asked?"
"Lots of times, magicians' assistants are blindfolded. I can't do that: I have to see what's going on; you know I'm afraid of the dark. But I thought that if I had a ball in my mouth, it would prove I can't use my teeth to undo the knots. It also makes me look helpless, and people will pity a kid who is bound and gagged."
"Are you sure you're not taking this a little too far?" Stilo asked.
"Nah, it's all right, it's just for the show…"
This being said, Simon stuck the ball in his mouth and buckled the strap up behind his neck, and they practiced.

Simon's ideas were good ones. It seemed they got much more response from the audience, which was much more impressed than before when Simon got out of his handcuffs. He ended his act by removing the ball and thanked everybody loudly as he and Stilo bowed to the crowd. But one day, as they were rehearsing, something turned out completely different…
There had been a rather copious lunch on that day, as the circus had performed the previous week in a rural town in which the city council had paid them in kind for the show they had performed for the city schools. It meant they even had a little meat on top of the usual boiled potatoes.

As they had cooked the meal, Dave had found two small boxes at the bottom of the big bags they had been given. One was candy, and the other was cigars, so there were treats for everyone. But as soon as they had been done eating, Simon had insisted on practicing right away. He was an eager student! And he and Stilo had left the others enjoying a quiet after-meal time, as they had gone behind their caravan for their dress rehearsal. They first started rehearsing the handcuffs escape trick, and Stilo had just put them around Simon's wrists, behind his back, when it happened.

Stilo began breathing heavily, he rolled his eyes and started looking funny at Simon. The escape artist got concerned, for it was quite unusual, and he hoped Stilo was not having a heart attack or something: "Urrgh gnya oh ay?", he asked. He meant "Are you OK?", but of course, with the red ball in his mouth, his words did not come out very clearly. Then Stilo came closer and spoke in a very unusual voice, which really frightened Simon: "You're not allowed to insult me, boy, I'm gonna have to punish you for what you just said." With that, he rushed into the caravan. Something was wrong, and Simon had to use his skills to get himself free and sort things out. He regretted to have lashed a piece of rope around his ankles; otherwise he could have run to the other people for protection.

Still, he felt his wrists were slowly getting out of the handcuffs. Too late, though, Stilo had jumped back out. He was holding chains in his hands. Simon had managed to get his right wrist out of the cuff but it was immediately seized by Stilo, who snapped a manacle linked to the chain on it. The other end was quickly attached to a steel ring on the caravan, so Simon's arm was pulled up behind his head. Stilo did the same to his left hand, and Simon now stood in an unusual position, on tiptoe, his arms pulled up in a Y. Stilo leered at him: "Much less obnoxious that way, hey?" Simon mumbled pleas to stop the silly game, as Stilo was now adding shackles to his knees and ankles. "You still have the nerve to insult me! Wait!"

Stilo stood up and grabbed the silk pocket handkerchief puffing out of his breast pocket. He packed it in a wad. The leather strap and was unfastened behind Simon's neck, then the ball removed, but, alas, only very temporarily. The silk wad was crammed into his mouth, and the ball replaced to prevent him from spitting it out. This time, he was truly gagged! He could not even mumble some half understandable words, and, even worse, no one would hear him shouting for help. They usually practiced without seeing anybody for the whole afternoon, so how long was Simon going to hang in chains? He twisted, and felt for a way to get out from his restraints, but it was not something they had studied yet. Stilo contemplated him squirming, snarling quietly for a couple minutes, and then he disappeared into the caravan.

Simon did not stop trying, and his mind was working really fast, trying to figure out if it was a game, a new lesson, a trial, or yet something else. He heard a few voices coming close at some point, but his faint grunts were so well smothered by the vicious gag that he was not heard. The sun was moving in the sky, darting his ray on the boy's skin, and shadows were getting longer as the hours were going by. He was just starting to feel really desperate, when Stilo got out of the caravan.

Simon heard him yawn, as he had just gotten out of a nap, and he jumped on the ground. Simon grunted a little, which caught the man's attention: "Simon! What are you doing here? What happened?"
Stilo dashed to release the boy from his restraints. He first removed his gag, but Simon could barely speak anyway. Once his wrists were released, Simon limply felt on the ground. He was exhausted. Stilo fetched water, which revived Simon a little. After a few minutes, he had recovered, and they talked about what had happened.

Stilo had no memory of what had happened after they had gotten dressed to rehearse. He had blacked out, only to wake up in the caravan. He was genuinely concerned, especially when Simon told him how he had behaved. He was also very impressed that Simon was not mad at him after such a nasty thing. But Simon said that had he been a better escape artist, he would have gotten out in no time. Still, they decided to practice with people from the circus around next time.

[Bondwriter]

Birthday Party Gone Awry.

Story by BC and Bondwriter


Chapter 1: Backyard entertainment

It was a nice summer afternoon on this late August Tuesday in Goodland, Kansas. The Von Rautenberg estate was of a good size, with a modest three-story house, but with a huge backyard. There was a big lawn, big trees, and coppices here and there, to create various atmospheres, a pavilion on the side of the house. It was a wealthy people's home, and Simon had never come to a birthday party thrown for rich people, or to any rich people's home for that matter. But he was not here to be a party guest, he was there to work!

The circus had traveled west, and they had settled in this small town for a couple of weeks. On Sunday, after the matinee, a man had come up to Stilo and Simon. He had taken his two sons, Joseph and Friedrich with him; they looked like they were a bit older than the Escape Artist apprentice.

Upon learning they performed for private audiences, the man, who had introduced himself as Mr. Von Rautenberg, engaged them for his youngest son Joseph's birthday party, which was to take place on Tuesday. He would pay them twenty dollars, and Simon had refrained from shouting in joy, for it was a huge amount of money. It was enough to feed the whole circus, including the bunnies and the doves, for a whole week, or maybe more!

They accepted enthusiastically, especially Simon, and agreed to come at two on Tuesday afternoon. They had gone after lunch, pulling a chest with their props on a small cart. After a 10-minute walk, they entered the estate. A butler welcomed them, and showed where in the backyard they would perform. As requested when they had been hired, there was a table, and thirty chairs were facing them. Once everything was set, Stilo and Simon waited, sipping the glasses of lemonade the butler had handed them, along with an envelope that contained their fee.

Then came the performance. Simon was focused on doing his act properly, so he paid very little attention to the audience, mainly kids his own age, some of them still with their nannies. Most boys were dressed in stupid sailor suits, and Simon did not regret not being a posh kid, for his overalls didn't make him look like a dummy! He wore a costume only to do his job! Everything went smoothly, and the small audience clapped politely their hands at the end of the magic show.

The escape act got the usual attention, and there was a much louder response. There had been some gasps as Stilo had restrained Simon, but by now, getting his hands out of handcuffs was child's play. Stilo then unfolded his cape, keeping the young Houdini hidden from the crowd, and counted down to ten; he then folded his cape, and stood aside, to reveal Simon, arms spread wide, with the ball gag in one hand and the handcuffs in the other. It was over, and the crowd of kids moved on towards the pavilion, where drinks and cake would be served.

Simon put his clothes back on, and, along with Stilo, they started putting props back in the chest. They were interrupted by three boys. Simon quickly identified them as the Von Rautenbergs. He had seen Joseph and Friedrich on Sunday with their father, but the third boy was unknown. At the same time, they all looked so much alike that it was obvious it was their brother. On top of that, they all had the same haircut, and were wearing the same white shirt and lederhosen.

He had already noticed this exotic outfit two days before, and Stilo had explained him it was a traditional German or Austrian one. To Simon, Germany and Austria were far away countries, and the only things he had read about them were always war stories, in which Germans were bloodthirsty, cruel people. It was the first time he met people who were German (well, that he knew about, because some people living in nearby farms in his hometown were also of German descent, but he only thought of them as Americans.) And these Germans did not look like the enemies he had read about!

Joseph introduced his brother Wilhelm, who had to be fifteen or sixteen. Like his brothers, he had short cropped blond hair and clear-blue eyes. Joseph thanked politely Stilo and Simon for the great performance; obviously he was quite envious of Simon's job, which had to be much more glamorous than his own life in Goodland. Then he left with Friedrich, going to join the other kids for the birthday cake. He had been taught not to have his guests waiting for him! The oldest stayed though. He had been very keen on watching Simon performing.

"So, Simon, can you perform all the stunts by Houdini I've read about?"
"Sure, I've practiced all sorts of escape. Today we've done only a few of the things we can do…"
"Is that right? Could you show me a few of them? I'd rather learn a few things than go have cake with small kids…"
Simon was not really sure, because he was needed back at the circus, to feed the horses and start the fire, and all the usual stuff; but at the same time, he was happy to be able to show off to some older posh German kid.
"What do you think, Stilo? Should we show him the 'escape from a pole?'"

This latest stunt was one that they had worked on for a week or so. It involved a "magic rope," a rope that could be loosened in one spot, by unscrewing a carefully hidden metal tube, which gave just enough leeway to then perform his already well-mastered skills, and get free from ropes holding him tightly to a pole. Stilo was unsure also. They had been extremely well paid for a rather short performance; at the same time, there was something in the teenager's eye that he did not like…

"I don't know, Simon… I'm afraid they miss us back at the circus. We wanted to make them a surprise, and didn't say anything about us being here, and I wouldn't want them to worry…"
"What if I give you an extra five dollars?" Wilhelm asked.
Simon thought quickly about the new props they would be able to buy; maybe there would even be some money left to buy newer, bigger cages for the bunnies and the doves!

"You've got a deal! It won't take me more than five minutes to get out from ropes holding me to a pole…"
"We don't have a pole," Wilhelm answered. But there's a thin maple tree, back behind there, by the toolshed, it could do the trick! Meet me there in two minutes; I'll go get your fee…"
With that, he rushed towards the house; Stilo and Simon went to the place they had been told.

"We'll do this quickly, Simon, there is something about this boy that I don't like…"
"Come on, Stilo! We've done that tens of times!" (Actually, ten times would have been more accurate…) "It's very good money, and easily earned! We'll be back at the circus before they even notice we were gone…"

Stilo sighed. That was true; they were not in a position in which they could afford turning down good money for fifteen minutes of performance. And he knew Simon would be glad to test his newly-acquired skills. Simon appraised the maple tree, straight, with smooth bark. It would be even easier than on the metal pole they used for practice.

Wilhelm came back panting; he had run fast. He handed the bill to Stilo, who quickly put it down his pocket. Simon had already taken his shirt, pants and shoes off, and was ready to perform. Wilhelm sat cross-legged, four feet away from the tree. Stilo noticed the teenager grabbing a small metal flask from his shirt pocket, and taking out a cigar and matches. What to do? Would the parents approve of their son smoking? And was there anything illegal in this flask? He pretended he had not seen anything, and he bound Simon's crossed hands behind the tree, as Wilhelm lit his cigar up…

The magician did his usual, three loops around the wrists, and then he made a cinch. This is tight, Simon thought. But nothing impossible to escape from either… Then he felt a rope being looped around his elbows. What was that? They had not practiced that way… Simon whispered: "What are you doing Stilo? I need to be able to move my elbows…"

But the only response he got was the pocket silk handkerchief swiftly crammed into his mouth, and followed by another one that Stilo had taken out from his pocket. "I hope it's clean…" Simon thought. It dawned on him, as Stilo fastened the strap keeping the red rubber ball between his lips and snarled: "Prisoners should be kept quiet…", that Stilo was suffering from the same thing that had happened a few weeks earlier. He had almost completely forgotten about the incident, but he was now fully reminded of it. At the same time, he now could no longer try to reason him, and they also had an audience.

Wilhelm was apparently enjoying the show. He was happily smoking, getting a sip from his flask now and then, and he beamed as Stilo was doing a rougher act than before with all the kids. Simon decided he should wait until Stilo was done, and if he did not regain his senses immediately, then Wilhelm would notice he could not escape, and he would untie him. Maybe he would have to give the ten dollars back, and it would certainly mean it was a big failure. No new cages for the bunnies…

Stilo kept on wrapping the young escape artist in ropes, and Simon saw the magic rope was not used. No big surprise at that point, but he would have to rely on the shorts-wearing older boy for release, now he was sure of it.

Next, more coils of the coarse hemp rope were used to encircle his ankles, knees, thighs, and belly, and other ropes were used to cinch these loops and link them to the tree. Stilo even used a shoe lace to tie his fingers together. Stilo used a longer piece that he craftily threaded from his ankles to his shoulders, making the whole network of ropes even more inescapable.

"Now that you are tied to your tree, I'm going to leave you to the care of the wild beasts roaming around!" Stilo snarled with a demonic tone. Simon let out another "Mmmmpph", trying to snap Stilo back into reality, but he only got a joyful smile on the audience's face… And Stilo left, heading straight in front of him, leaving him and Wilhelm alone.

Chapter 2: Bad company

Simon squirmed, trying to find some way out, experimenting with all the tricks he had learned. But the mere fact of having his elbows solidly attached to the tree, and his fingers tied made the escape impossible. The thing of having someone watch him both made him more willing to manage and a little shameful not to succeed as usual. After five or ten minutes, Wilhelm got puzzled of not seeing Stilo come back.
"It seems the bad magician really wants you to get eaten by the wild beasts…", he sniggered.
"Mmmgnmmph!" Simon mumbled as loud as he could with a fully packed mouth.
Wilhelm raised an eyebrow, and smiled evilly. "Maybe he did leave you for good, is that what you mean?"

Simon nodded affirmatively.
"And you can't escape?"
He denied by shaking his head.
"This is something else, then!' Wilhelm triumphed; He went to the chest, and got a big white scarf out. He folded it diagonally and used the two-inch bandage he eventually got to cover Simon's mouth from nose to chin, pressing the packing even tighter in his mouth. Once he had secured it with a tight knot at the back of Simon's neck, Wilhelm said: "Don't go, I'll be back soon…"
"Mmmmph!" Simon grunted.
And Wilhelm headed towards the pavilion…

Simon kept on trying to free himself, but the ropes did not get that much looser. Wilhelm had certainly gone to get the other kids to show them how the escape artist was stuck. He would have to endure the shame of these posh kids making fun of him before he would be free. But Wilhelm soon came back all alone. "No one saw Stilo the Great leaving… Well, almost, no one, but me, for I saw him and his assistant to the gate. They have left very happy about their performance, that's what I told my parents and the guests… So, Simon, I guess it's just the two of us now, and I think I'm going to prove you that you should not brag about your skills…"

Wilhelm swiftly set to work, untying the boy's arms, only to tie them again, pulled up between his shoulder blades. Simon struggled, but Wilhelm was much stronger, and with ropes pinning him to the tree from his chest down, he got nowhere. He was soon freed from the tree, but still held by ropes everywhere. Wilhelm dragged him into the tool shed, where it had to be a hundred and ten degrees, and Simon immediately started sweating.

The teenager left him standing as he fetched the cart with the chest. He pulled it in and gloated over his captive: "We're going to have a lot of fun together, Simon the Lousy! I'd like to see if I can tie good knots. If I can, that means you remain my prisoner…"

Simon protested, but the faint grunt that he could make through his nose only made Wilhelm laugh evilly: "Oh, by the way, I've released your doves and your rabbits… I thought about torturing the rabbits, but I've decided against it. No time for burying them afterwards, and it's much too messy anyway…" Simon let out a desperate mmph through his gag. The bunnies and the doves! No, not them!

He grabbed a long-handled rake, and stood it behind Simon, the end of the handle against his heels, the metal teeth slightly above his hair.
"I'll see if I've learned something today…"
As he worked methodically, Simon understood Wilhelm was tying him up exactly as he had been to the tree.

But the handle was much thinner than the tree trunk, and his elbows were pulled back even more behind his back. After ten or fifteen minutes, Simon was able to assess the quality of Wilhelm's tying-up skills: they were good! Maybe a mistake had been made, he would have to try…

And if he could hop to the pair of shears he saw at the back of the shed, he'd be able to cut himself loose. Wilhelm then untied the scarf covering his gagged mouth, but Simon's relief of having the cruel gag removed was short-lived. It was tied again even tighter, and the two ends were knotted to the handle, making his head immobile also. He tied a piece of rope to the rake, and threaded it to a ring in the ceiling. So much for hopping around!
"I wouldn't want you to fall down," Wilhelm said considerately, "While you wait for me to come back… Oh and by the way, if you manage to escape before I do come back, I'll give you an extra ten dollars…"

Chapter 3: A long evening

"I hope you don't get too hot. I think we're going to have lots of fun together, Simon. I've always dreamed of having an escape artist friend. To prove him I am very talented with ropes… Because, you know, I've liked to tie kids up for the longest time. I can't say my parents are too supportive of my little habit, but I still enjoy it a lot. And I think I may also help you in developing your escape skills…"

"Mmmmbblmmph!" Simon pleaded pitifully. But to no avail.
For Wilhelm stepped out from the shed, glistening with sweat after the effort he had put into restraining our unfortunate hero. The door was slammed shut, and Simon stood, helpless, in the unbearable heat. He hoped the sweat would make everything slippery, and would help him out a little, but the stringent elbow-tie made his efforts useless. The shoelace holding his fingers, a novelty, did not help. Time went by, Simon expecting Stilo to come and rescue him every second. But he hoped in vain, for when the door opened, it was not Stilo, it was Wilhelm.
"It doesn't look like you're really trying to escape! Maybe I'll make you a little more helpless, as an incentive…"
He came by Simon, and put cotton pads over his eyes, before he held them in place with some leather belt. "My brother doesn't need his belt at the moment, for we don't need them when we wear lederhosen. And we wear lederhosen all summer long" Wilhelm explained, leaving a puzzled Simon wondering why the German teen would need to tell him about their clothing habits.

"And just to make sure…"
Simon felt another belt coming over his already thoroughly gagged mouth, drawing his head even tighter to the rake handle. Overkill, Simon thought, this Wilhelm is a villain! He chuckled inwardly of the pun, trying to stay brave as he had fallen into the hands of a kid who apparently was far from being benevolent. He heard the door being pulled shut again, and went into meditation and concentration, relaxing as much as he could in his bonds, twisting and squirming ever so slightly to loosen the ropes; they would eventually yield, it was just a matter of time. He wished he knew how to dislocate limbs, which he could have put into use to get out of his current predicament. He got pulled back into reality by screams and giggles outside the shed. The party was not over, and there were kids running around and playing outside.

He called out for help, but he could barely hear his own noise, and the voices soon drifted away. He was trapped, but he was not to despair, something would happen so he'd be rescued…

It had to be dark outside by now, which Simon had inferred from the slight cooling down in temperature that told the sun had set, in spite of having his sense of time completely thrown by the blindfold. He then heard steps outside, and made as much noise as he possibly could through his gag.
"Mmmmmmph!"
The door opened, and he heard the nasty voice he has grown familiar with over the last few hours.

"Still here, Simon the Lousy? That's a good boy! I couldn't hear you with the door shut, in case you were trying to call for help. I have to get you to another more convenient place, one where there's little risk my bratty brothers find you…" Simon felt fingers removing the blindfolding belt. Wilhelm leaned over, and with a torch light he inspected the knots. "You didn't get anywhere close to escaping, Simon the Pathetic!" He sniffed inquisitively… "But you do smell, and not good! I was told that redheads stink, but now I know for sure…" This was really too much! Simon had had his weekly bath just the day before, and he did not like being mocked for his hair color. He would fight this mean German! But as Wilhelm released the ropes tying him to the rake's handle, Simon realized he had gotten weak from the long tie-up. He felt numb, and fought not to fall in the dirt.

Wilhelm quickly cuffed his hands behind his back, and added a set of leather cuffs to his elbows. The chain linking them allowed for a little more movement, and did not stretch him as badly as the ropes had, but he was in no state to get his wrists free. Wilhelm shoved him out of the shed. The cool wind did tons of good to Simon. He was at last freed from the gag, and Wilhelm made him drink water from a bottle. Simon guzzled it eagerly, his mouth parched from the gag and his whole body being dried from the heat. He had emptied the bottle, which Wilhelm put down on the grass…

"Please, Wilhelm, let me go, you've had your mmblmm…" Wilhelm had clamped his hand over his mouth, preventing Simon from pleading any further.
"No talking, prisoner, I don't want to hear you. I'm going to feed you, but only if you remain quiet." Simon nodded yes. Wilhelm removed his hand, and put chicken in Simon's mouth. He clamped his hand back on the boy's mouth as he was chewing quietly. A whole meal was fed this way, ending with a piece of the birthday cake for dessert. Wilhelm gave him more water to drink, and the gag went back in. Then Simon heard the German teenager fumbling next to the tool shed, and felt water hitting him as Wilhelm had turned a hose on. In the moonlight, Wilhelm turned around Simon, spraying him all over. "Pee now if you need, it'll be a while before you can go again…"
Simon grumbled, having no taste for having his bodily functions discussed out loud. But he did, humiliated to have to do that in his briefs, which Wilhelm carefully hosed down eventually. He then grabbed a towel in the big duffel bag he had taken with him and dried Simon. Our young escape artist was now fairly revived, and he started trying to get out from the cuffs.

As Wilhelm turned his back to him, putting things back in the bag and taking others out, Simon decided he would give it a go and run to the house. His legs were free; he maybe would not have another opportunity. He took small steps at first, and when he thought he was far enough, he started running. But Wilhelm had caught him sneaking away, and Simon was soon tackled to the ground. Wilhelm whispered into his ear: "Good try, Mr. the Escape Artist! But not good enough…" He pulled him up to his feet and took him back where they came from, a hand firmly holding his shoulder.
"So, you like running?" Wilhelm asked rhetorically. Simon did not even bother grunting in reply, that would make his assailant all too happy. He soon had his legs seriously trussed up with ropes. More were added to his chest and waist, pinning his arms against his body. Wilhelm then picked up a big woolen blanket that he had laid on the ground, and wrapped Simon in it, head included. He then added ropes outside the blanket, further hampering Simon's possibility to move.
"Ready for the journey, boy?" Wilhelm asked, expecting no answer. With that, he pulled Simon up and threw him on his shoulder, with amazing ease, and he took off, taking Simon to his lair…

Chapter 4: Getting ready for the night

When the blanket was removed, after he had been put down on the floor, Simon saw they were in an attic. He had thought they were climbing stairs, but he was not sure. Now he knew. It was a hard wood floor, very sparsely furnished. In front of him sat a wooden chair, a solid one with two armrests. Wilhelm turned him around, and made him sit on the chair. He had also brought the duffel bag up with him, out of which he took carefully coiled ropes, and used one piece, to pull his ankles under the chair. He tied the rope to the rung underneath. He then used long leather belts to strap Simon's thighs to the seat, one just above his knees and one at the top of his thighs.

He freed his torso and arms, but to tie them back to the armrests with rope right away, that he crisscrossed from the wrist to the elbow. Simon felt there was an opportunity, for it was much looser than the ropes Wilhelm had tied before. Then Wilhelm used shoelaces to tie his fingers together and to the armrests. "No wiggling these fine escape artist fingers, uh?" Wilhelm mockingly said. A piece of rope was doubled, and its middle put on the boy's neck, the two ends running under his armpits, before they were passed behind the chair's top back rung, and they were threaded twice more to double and then triple the first one, holding Simon's shoulders to the back of the chair. A firm square knot united the ends of the rope. One more rope at the waist, and Simon was firmly anchored to the seat.

Wilhelm took yet another long rope, and threw it over a rafter that was just above the chair.
"Ok, let me tie one end here…" Simon felt him tying the rope to the left of the top rung, "and the other one here…" His fingers tightened a knot on the right of the rung. "Now you can't fall back. By the way, even if you manage to tilt the chair a little, it's my bedroom just underneath, so I'll be the only one to hear you. Of course, the chair crashing on the floor could make enough noise to warn someone else in the house, but I doubt it. And now, it won't be possible to check it out! This house is built like we do in Germany, so the walls and the floors are thick and solid. But I have to be cautious, you know… I'll be back soon, wait for me nicely!" He walked out of the room, and Simon heard he locked the door behind him. He squirmed a bit to test out the bonds. "Twenty to thirty minutes at the most" he assessed, for this tie-up was one he could get out of. The tied fingers made it slightly more difficult, but he could work something out with time.

But he did not have this much time. It had not to be more than ten minutes when he heard the door being unlocked. Wilhelm came in, carrying Stilo's chest.
"How is the escape going?" he asked in a low voice. He walked up to Simon, who did not bother grunting back. One more thing..." He used the belt to reinforce the gag.

"What happened? The cat got your tongue? You're awfully quiet…"
"MMmph!" Simon groaned contemptibly.

"Much too loud… I thought the extra belt would do the trick, but I guess I was wrong! It's time for your night gag, my boy, I'll have to be creative…"
What new devious torture was Wilhelm going to inflict upon him? Simon wondered. He thought that he should not alarm his kidnapper, and that once he would have gagged him anew, if he left for the night, he would be able to escape at last. So he docilely let Wilhelm remove the layers of gag, remove the soggy silk scarves, and replace them with a big ball of absorbent cotton. This was very unpleasant, and Simon would have liked to spit them out, but by now he had enough knowledge about the leather-shorted teenager to know better. This latter went to the chest again, and picked up some rolls. Seeing Simon's puzzled look, he explained:
"Surgical tape. I stole quite a few rolls from the drugstore a few months back, as they had left their back door open. I knew it could come in handy!"
He pinched Simon's cheeks, bringing the two corners of his mouth together, and stuck two 1-inch wide strips in an X going to his chin bone to his cheeks to keep his lips pulled together and his mouth closed.

He then took something else from the chest. It was a black rubber swim cap, that he carefully put over Simon's head, tucking in any visible hair.
"Let me protect this fine red hair of yours… Right, here we are… The other roll, now…"

He first used the finer tape to trap the wadding inside his mouth, with a few turns…
He had taken a much wider roll, like two or three inches, and he ripped a long strip, that he plastered over Simon's lips.

He added an even longer strip under his chin, and stuck the ends, overlapping, at the top of his head over the rubber, forcing his lower jaw up. Two horizontal strips going from under one ear to the other covered completely his lower face. "He thinks of very effective gags!" Simon thought.

But then Wilhelm was not done yet! He picked up a crepe bandage, and wrapped it around Simon's lower face, then from his chin up above his head, and methodically wrapped his lower face and jaw until there was no bandage left. He stuck the end with a short piece of the wide tape, which he then used to reinforce the ropes holding Simon's forearms to the armrests. He did the same to his legs, from his ankles to his knees. "Time to wrap it all up!", Wilhelm teased Simon. He grabbed a small silk cushion Stilo used to lay props on during his act, and stuck it between Simon's head and the chair's top rung. He used a second crepe bandage to pin Simon's already well covered head to the chair, doing alternative turns over where his mouth was and over his eyes, and soon Simon's only visible skin from his face was his nose.

He took the silk scarf to top the already intricate network mummifying the poor boy's head.
Simon felt the blanket being thrown over him. It was tucked here and there, and Wilhelm eventually said:
"It should keep you warm and cozy, Simon the Prisoner! The bet is still on, so if I open the door tomorrow morning to find you've escaped, not only will you be free to go, but I'll also give you the money I promised! Have a good night! Hey, don't you wish me a good night? I thought you'd be more polite…"

"Mmmmph…" Simon groaned I, annoyed by Wilhelm's remark.
Simon heard quiet steps fading away, and he just heard the door being locked up. He sighed, and got to thinking…

Chapter 5: A day with Wilhelm


The next morning, a hand softly patting his head woke Simon up. He heard a low voice:
"Time to wake up, Simon the Lowly! Your friend Wilhelm is here to play with you!"
Simon came to his senses, quickly remembering of his predicament. He had managed to sleep, even though not extremely well, by relaxing as Wilhelm had left him. He had first realized that no attempt would get him out of the chair, so he had just let go, loosening all his muscles as much as he could, thinking that the next day would bring an occasion of escape, if not Stilo himself once he would have recovered. This day had come, and

Wilhelm was unwrapping the bandages that imprisoned his head. He blinked as his eyesight got cleared, and the sun shone through a small, high window and hit him in the eye. As the second bandage got finally unwrapped, Simon felt better, the strain having been greatly released.
"I knew you'd still be where I left you. You're not a very good escape artist. But I'm willing to help you out. We're going to practice some more today…"
He was hovering over Simon, who had decided to pretend he was afraid, and not to challenge Wilhelm. He knew that would not make him pity him, this word had to be out of his vocabulary, but he would think he was the boss, and would make the mistake that would allow the young escape artist to perform successfully.

So he had breakfast without making a fuss, and obediently opened his mouth when Wilhelm brought a clean scarf up to his lips. A second one followed, then a third cleave gagging him, strips of the wide tape to seal his lips, and a fourth one tied tight behind his neck, finishing the job neatly.
"I've got to go now; it's time for family breakfast…" Wilhelm said as he walked out, locking the door behind him. Simon tried out his bonds, wondering if the sticky bandage was easier to remove with time. But no, he still was stuck, literally. He just sat there, watching the little sun ray moving around the attic, so he estimated one hour and a half had gone by when he heard the sound of a key unlocking the door.

"We're on our own, now, Simon the Third-Rate Escape Artist! My dad's gone to the plant, my mom to her charity, and my bros have gone to some stupid base-ball tournament. Me, I'm grounded for the summer, so I'm supposed to study in my room. There's only Siegfried left, the butler, and he doesn't leave the kitchen. He's too busy drinking the booze I got him!" Simon was appalled by the extent of Wilhelm's villainy: he even sold alcohol, and in his parents' house!
"So we won't be disturbed before noon, which gives us a good three hours! I'm taking you to the bathroom before we start!"

Simon was released from the chair, and ended up with his hands cuffed behind his back, at the wrists and the elbows. Another set of cuffs above his knees prevent him from running or kicking. Wilhelm took him downstairs, on the floor just below, and got him inside a bathroom. It was white and modern, and big. He released his arms, cuffing his left wrist to a towel rack between the bathtub and the toilets. He turned around.
"You've got two minutes to do what you've got to do. Be quick…"
Simon did not really like to have someone in the same room as he relieved himself, but he still enjoyed having his arms free, and he knew Wilhelm would not give him many opportunities. So he took that one.

Two minutes later, he was standing, briefs pulled up, when Wilhelm said his two minutes were up. He was uncuffed, and Wilhelm took him in front of the sink. "Wash up, Irish stinker…" he taunted him, standing behind him, ready to act in case of any attempt at escaping. Simon was perplexed about Wilhelm's taste for cleanliness. Was it because of his German ascent, or because he was a rich kid. Nevertheless, he turned the faucet on, grabbed the wash mitt and the soap and enjoyed the refreshing feeling. He was looking at himself in the mirror, and thought about how impressive his gag looked. There was no doubt Wilhelm had already silenced other boys, and that he liked it. He handed Simon a towel, and once he was dry, his arms were tightly cuffed back behind him, before he was brought back upstairs.

"We'll try something different, rodeo-style… We'll see if you can escape this time!"
Wilhelm laid Simon on the floor face down, and started working with ropes and shoelaces. Fifteen minutes later, he had trussed him up in a severe hogtie, leaving a bewildered Simon wondering how he would manage to escape the inextricable network of ropes keeping him prisoner.
"I think the little calf is not going anywhere!" Wilhelm gloated as he looked at the job he'd done. Simon rejoiced inwardly, for he felt loose ropes encircling his right wrist.
The wide silk scarf was used to cover his already well-muffling gag. Wilhelm traced Simon's lips through the silk covering them.
"Not much mooing either, I reckon! What about listening to a nice story? Do you want to know why I'm grounded for the summer?"

He paused, and Simon knew he was expecting a response. He had to please the evil German teen…
"Mmmmblm!"
"I knew you'd want to! So, three months ago, my brothers had invited one of their friends over one Saturday afternoon. This kid had got me in trouble by telling on me, claiming I had bullied him on the playground. I had just played around a bit, maybe a little roughly, but, hey! Boys will be boys, as they say… And snitches are despicable beings, aren't they? I had gotten detention for a whole week after class, so I decided I'd play a little prank on him…"
Wilhelm being a school bully was no surprise to Simon. He was not surprised either by the story that followed…
"I managed to have my brothers sent for running an errand, around the time this boy Keith was supposed to come in, telling them I'd see him in. I waited at the gate, and when Keith arrived, I took him inside, showing him to Friedrich's room, telling he was playing, waiting for him. I pounced on him before he had a chance to say anything about the room being empty, and I overpowered the little wimp easily. I tied up his wrists and arms, and as started being a bit too vocal, I shoved one of my brother's socks inside his mouth, and I took him to my room. I quickly tied him up on a chair, and hid him inside a closet. I went out of my room when my brothers came back, and told them Keith's mom had called to say he had homework to do and he couldn't come. The gullible brats swallowed it all, and they went playing in Friedrich's room. I came back and opened the closet. Keith had turned red shouting for help, but with doors closed, he had heard us talking, but he made to little sound to be heard himself…"


He twitched, with little possible movement, and after quite a while, he managed to pull his fingers out of the shoelaces. The thumbs were out easily after that. He could start releasing his right wrist. It would have been easy, had not his elbows been pulled together. But the looseness in the wrist induced some slack in the elbow rope, so, with time and determination, he eventually managed. His wrists being free, he could fiddle with the knot that tied them to his ankles, pulled against his butt. He searched for the knot, squirmed, and twisted until he got his fingers on it. He grabbed it firmly, and felt for it, until he found out how it could be released. Once he succeeded, his legs stretched and went to bump on the hardwood floor.

He breathed through his nostrils and caught his breath. The hardest part was done, now he could work on his elbows. More squirming was involved, but then, the rope tied above his elbow slipped down his joint, and he carefully pulled his left forearm out of the loop. With his arms free, all he had to do was free his legs and get rid of the gag. Once he had quickly unwrapped the layer of gauze, he decided to untie his legs, because the ropes were uncomfortable, and it was really tied tightly. The knots were more difficult to undo than for his arms, but as he was picking the final knot, he heard the door being unlocked. With his still bound ankles, he jumped to his feet, and frantically went to remove the gag, but Wilhelm was already in.

He was flabbergasted, and stayed for a few seconds gazing at Simon, who spread his arms open, and bowed as if he had just finished an act. He had won. But Wilhelm quickly got a grip on himself:
"No, not good enough, your ankles are still tied, and you're still gagged! That doesn't count."
Simon tried to get over with removing the sticky tape preventing him from shouting, in the hope that there would be someone downstairs to come rescue him. But Wilhelm had already jumped on him, and grabbed his arms behind his back. The handcuffs snapped, and there was still one bit of tape keeping the cotton inside his mouth. Wilhelm clamped a big sweaty hand over the escape artist's mouth, in case he would be about to spit the padding out, which he wasn't anyway.
"Close call! You're not as hopeless as I thought when it comes to escaping… I'll have to be much more cautious! I wouldn't want to have to give you the ten dollars. It's almost three months of my allowance…"
Simon let out a grunting sigh…

Wilhelm spent the next twenty minutes threading, cinching and knotting ropes with a great amount of concentration. Simon flexed his muscles as much as he could, so there would be a little slack once the fiend's work would be over, but it felt like there wouldn't be much. The gagging that followed was no less thorough, even though there had been a few minutes of release so he would drink and eat a little, and once all these activities were over, a gloating Wilhelm was utterly satisfied:

"The little Irish brat has turned into a bratwurst hanging to dry, hasn't he?"
"Mmmmbllmmmph!" was all Simon could faintly reply. He did not particularly enjoy the pun, Wilhelm was really starting to get on his nerves…

This time, the position Wilhelm's ropes forced him in was the reason for his concern. Having to stand on tiptoe with your arms stretched up above your head was no guarantee of great ease and comfort. Wilhelm grabbed a long feather and started to tickle Simon under his armpits, having fun seeing him writhing helplessly. He then sat in front of Simon in the chair he had previously tied him up, and started to taunt him by using his imagination to make up possible future ordeals. He kept on teasing Simon, verbally and with his feather for at least one hour. Simon saw him fidgeting a bit as time went by, until he finally got up.
"I've got to go. I won't be long…" he stated dryly. Simon guessed he meant he had to go to the bathroom. Wilhelm took a piece of rope.
"One little thing, maybe…" He threaded the doubled rope through the gag at the neck, then through the arms that he encircled just above the shoulders, and he knotted it with the rope restraining his elbows. Now even Simon's head was prevented from moving.
"Another challenge baffling Simon the Escape Artist! Will he get out from Wilhelm der Wunderbar's skilled knots?"
Simon was left to hang. This game was really starting to get physical. Simon had enough.

A couple minutes later at the most, the doorknob was fumbled with, and Simon turned wearily to see what Wilhelm was up to this time. He got a shock: on the threshold was a tall man in his thirties, dressed in overalls, who frowned at what he was seeing, not the evil German kid! Simon shouted for help, even though it only came out so faintly He walked up to Simon, and started removing his gag.

He tried to, at least, because it took a few seconds to figure out where to start. He eventually found the small piece of rope holding the knot of the silk scarf, and worked both knots loose with lots of patience. Then, he removed the tape running over the scarf. Simon was patiently waiting for the gag to be removed completely. The man had just unfastened the strap holding the red ball gag keeping the silk wadding inside Simon's mouth, when an authoritative teenage voice boomed in the attic:
"Who are you and what are you doing here?"
Wilhelm stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.
The carpenter stood aside, taking two steps to get away from Simon. He stuttered:
"I…I am…the carpenter and I'm…uh… freeing this boy…"
"You don't want to do that!" he snapped back.
The man was completely taken aback by what sounded like an order. Wilhelm had walked up to Simon, behind whom he was now standing.

He had noticed the desperate tongue motions the escape artist did in order to get rid of the packing, but before Simon could expel it, he playfully put his warm, smelly hand over the boy's mouth to keep the packing well put. He elicited a grunt, but he had also used his other hand to keep Simon from moving his head, by grabbing the hair at the back of his neck. The carpenter was puzzled:
"And… why is that?"
"Because if you had done such a foolish thing, I don't think my cousin Simon here would have been too happy with the consequences. Didn't you hear him protest against your untying him?"
"He wasn't asking to be released?"
"I doubt it. He wouldn't be released anyway, because the rules prohibit it!"
"Which rules are you talking about?"
"The rules of our game!" As he said that, Wilhelm peacefully took another hankie from his pocket and crammed it inside Simon's mouth, poking it with his fingers to make an even fuller ball of material. Wilhelm went on:
"You see, Simon has been there for two weeks, and everyday after lunch, we play a game of chess. The loser has to pay a forfeit. I've lost for almost two weeks in a row, and Simon decided on the first day my forfeit was to be tied up to a chair for two hours. So that's what he did: he tied me to a chair. He also thought I should be gagged so I couldn't get any help. He has been rather creative in his forfeits, and today is the first time I actually won a game. So it was eventually my turn this afternoon to make up a forfeit…"

"Mmmmbllmm!" Simon protested, but the hands were back holding his head and preventing him from disapproving with any head motion.
"You hear the boy! He doesn't want you to get involved in our games!" Wilhelm triumphed, leaving Simon bewildered by his audacity.
"You play tie-up?" the carpenter asked with a knowing smile, remembering his own fun tie-up games with the neighborhood's kids when he was Simon's age.
"Yes, for the last few years, Simon has always made up games in which we would tie each other up, like cowboys and Indians…"
Simon was flabbergasted. This evil German teen was trying to lead this carpenter into believing it was a game! He grunted in disapproval.

"Mmmmmph!!" But the only response he got was a thin scarf cleaving his lips and trapping the wadding inside his mouth, and a snigger from Wilhelm.
"Yeah, he's not too happy with me telling about how much he likes these games, but this is the truth. He especially enjoys tying me up, and I'd better tell you he has become quite skilled at it, and quite ruthless also, so now that I can get even, I'm not going to go easy on him. And we're going to stick to the rules! The new rule Simon made up two days ago would apply right now…"
As he said that, Wilhelm had taken his roll of tape, and was plastering Simon's lower face with it. He acted quite casually, as if it was perfectly normal to shut his "cousin's" lips with the sticky material.

There was yet another grunt from Simon, but the carpenter smiled, misunderstanding the true meaning of the sound for an approval of Wilhelm's words.
"So, on Monday, Simon won the game, and my forfeit was to be tied to the beam over there. He bound me tightly, and after one hour and a half, with a half hour to go, my brother came in and removed my gag, to know if he should release me. When Simon came, he shooed him away, and gagged me anew, and said the rule in case someone else releases you is to start the forfeit again from the beginning. And I had to stay tied to my pole the whole afternoon. So I came in right in time to avoid such an ordeal to happen to him, apparently."

The carpenter nodded, and asked how much longer Simon had to remain tied up; Wilhelm answered, as he was tightly knotting the wide silk scarf that Simon had been freed of a few minutes earlier:
"It's another forty minutes before he's off the hook, so to speak. By the way, what did you come to do up here, Sir?"
"I came to take measurements of the window; we have to come fix it tomorrow. Your father called us last week, and the butler showed me the stairs. I don't know if he still can climb stairs himself, for various reasons…"
"Go right ahead, do as planned, do not mind us…"

"Hmmmmbllmmph!!!" Simon screamed in despair, but the amount of packing allowed only a limited sound.
"You're right, Simon," Wilhelm approved, "he should take his time and not worry about us!" He eventually used the rope pulling the scarf from behind, pinning Simon's head to his arms. It did not take more than five minutes for the carpenter to take his measurements, and as he left, Wilhelm went with him.
"I'm going to show you to the door, Sir."
"Oh, thank you."
As Wilhelm closed the door he winked at Simon who was making a final attempt at attracting the carpenter's attention.
He came back three minutes later.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty… You were ready to tattle on me to this man, weren't you? But, too bad for you, I've always known how to handle this type of situations. I didn't do too bad, did I?

"Mmmmbbmmgnmmph!" Simon groaned, having for the first time lost hope of escaping the evil teen's clutches. His eyes had become watery and tears rolled down his cheeks. Where was Stilo? When would he be rescued? Would he get a chance to escape on his own?
Wilhelm stepped up in front of him. "Don't cry, Simon" he said gently. He wiped his tears with a cotton handkerchief. "I'm here to take care of you…"
That was Simon's first encounter with someone displaying such an abusive behavior. Nevertheless, he understood it was wrong, and that this touch of gentleness would soon be followed by more meanness.

He had to be strong. He had to hold on. It was only a matter of time. Someone would come along, Wilhelm's parents would find out… Something had to happen. In a split second, he regained his composure, and gave Wilhelm a defying look.
"You're feeling better all of a sudden, aren't you? That's good, I'd much rather have a strong-willed opponent than a whinnying crybaby. As you know, I like challenges."
Wilhelm had gotten hold of the rubber swim cap, which he put over Simon's head.

"I like a prisoner's head carefully wrapped up, it looks so much better…"
It took him a while to tuck all of Simon's hair underneath the black shiny material.
Simon was wondering what experience Wilhelm had with keeping people captive. Was this boy Keith the only one who had had to undergo the German teen's abuse?
Wilhelm went on making Simon's predicament even more unpleasant. He took belts out from his pockets; they were different from the ones he had used the day before. They were made of a thinner, shinier material, and a bit wider also. He used one to clamp his jaws together buckling it shut on top of Simon's skull, he used the next one to reinforce the nasty gag, and a last one to blindfold him. The buckles were unpleasantly tight, and Simon wondered how long Wilhelm was going to let him undergo this ordeal.

Unseen from Simon, Wilhelm wagged his finger in a threatening sign.
"No funny stuff, this time, or else… Be a nice little escape artist, and escape playing the rules, I mean, on your own… The deal goes on, so try hard, and I'll feed you in a while if you fail to escape, which I know you will. See you in a bit…"
Simon heard steps, and a door being locked. He was hanging in darkness, but he would not give up. He wiggled and squirmed, and managed to get his wrists' ropes slightly loosened, but not enough to slip them free. He then went into meditation, knowing that focusing on important things would avoid feeling despair, so he'd be able to fight Wilhelm back. He was getting good at that, so he let his mind wander in a place filled with pleasant people, and he even saw himself performing in front of a big city crowd with Stilo, and of course the soothing image of bunnies and doves hopping and flying around him made him feel better.

An annoying noise got him out of his daydream. He could hear a buzzing, irritating sound, this of a mosquito flying around. So much for doves! Simon was always a good prey for the little bloodsuckers, and their bite was always quite irritating. As he felt the mosquito land on his shoulder, he squirmed to scare it off. But this was far from over, as the insect had tons of other places to target. Simon's attention got fully drawn into trying to feel the bug landing and then shaking it off. After a while, he was all sweaty and exhausted by the unrelenting efforts he had to put into keeping the mosquito away. At the same time, he had not been bitten yet.

Then another buzzing sound was heard. It was quite different, for it had to be either a bee or a wasp. What a dilemma! He did not want to scare this insect, for that was when it would sting him!

So he had to make even more efforts, making sure the bee was not on him when he squirmed to frighten the mosquito off. This ordeal went on and on, until he finally heard the door being unlocked.

"Time for dinner!" Wilhelm whispered. As he came close to the hanging boy, he noticed the flying bugs. "It seems that the stinking Irishman made some new friends…" Simon felt a stinging slap on his left buttock. "That'll be one less mosquito! I hate these worthless insects!" Wilhelm said.
He removed Simon's blindfold, and the other straps encircling his head. Then Simon was the witness to a very cruel scene: Wilhelm caught the bee in his hand, and slowly opened it to grab the insect's wing between his thumb and first finger. He took hold of the other wing with his now available other thumb and first finger, and slowly pulled on the wings.
"So, what about having your wings removed? It will make flying much more difficult, won't it?"
The unfortunate bee, deprived of its wings, fell on the hardwood floor, where it tried to move with just its legs. Simon was appalled at the teen's cruelty. Being mean to animals was something that really shocked him, for, on the family farm, he had been raised to respect all of God's creatures, including insects, which all had a purpose in this world. Simon wondered whether there was a purpose for Wilhelm having come into the world. There had to be, but besides making others' lives miserable, he could not clearly see what it was.

The evil German boy ended the bee's suffering by smashing it with his heavy leather shoe. Simon protested into his gag, only to get a smirk from the vicious killer.
"A little soft-hearted, Simon the Goody Two Shoes? That's what makes the difference between the superior race to which I belong, and the weaklings that make up the rest of the world! Hopefully, we will soon rule this world and rid it of useless beings just as I did with this bee!"
Simon understood only much later what this really meant, but he always kept a vivid memory of this first encounter with a Nazi, whom he judged despicable from then on, even though he did not know what they were called.

Wilhelm stopped his ranting to remove Simon's gag, and he gave him plenty to drink and some food. He then carefully put the various wadding and layers back on, minus the cruel straps, and left again, saying he'd come back to get Simon ready for the night. He climbed on a stool to give a little slack to the rope pulling Simon's wrists towards the ceiling, just enough so he had the balls of his feet touching the floor. It was almost comfortable, compared to the afternoon he had spent, but his arms were too numb to allow him to perform any escape routine. Wilhelm closed the window, making sure there would not be more bugs coming in, and Simon just stood there waiting. He saw the day fading out through the window, and long after it was dark, Wilhelm eventually came back.

"I thought that giving you some slack in the rope would enable you to escape, but maybe you don't want to? You like me taking care of you better than being with your circus friends? That's easy to understand, I'm a very likeable person…"
He had steeped up on the stool again, and untied the rope from the rafter.
"Hop to the beam over there, hop like your silly rabbits do!"
Making fun of the bunnies again! How much longer would Simon have to stand this inhuman Wilhelm? But he abode, and jumped the few feet that kept him away from the beam.

This time, Wilhelm stood him facing it, and had him on tiptoe as he tied his ankles to it. His arms were then held exactly the same way as before, with a rope pulled up and knotted to a rafter attached to the beam.

"You like playing the little ballerina, don't you?"
"Mmmph!" Simon groaned, not enjoying his manhood being thus mocked.
Wilhelm then wrapped him in the blanket from his shoulders to his feet, and used yards of rope to make a tight bundle out of Simon and the beam.
"All right, my boy, sleep tight! We'll have plenty more fun tomorrow, I assure you!"
He left, and Simon was on his own again, and after a few minutes of meditation, he was relaxed, and the ropes held him enough so that he could fall asleep, and drift away in a dream world in which cruelty and spitefulness did not exist…

Chapter 6: Wilhelm's devious mind


When the blanket got unwrapped, which woke Simon up, our young escape artist noticed it was still dark outside. It had to be fairly early in the morning, for the sun rose around six at this time of the year. He understood fast enough what was going on.
"Time to move, Simon, while everybody's still asleep, and before the carpenter and his crew come. I doubt I can pull the same trick twice, 'cousin'! I'll bring you back where I kept you before; it's a safe place to have you in…"
Simon was surprised to hear that, for he had been taken out from the toolshed for the exactly opposite reason. But it seemed Wilhelm was also showing signs of insanity.

Wilhelm went on doing the same fastidious routine of bringing Simon's arms behind his back, trussing him up all wrapped in the blanket again, so he could be carried back safely and quietly in the backyard. Simon was beginning to be used to Wilhelm's handling. It would be another forty years or so before he would hear of the Stockholm syndrome, but there was a little bit of this phenomenon at work. He despised Wilhelm, and knew this teen had no consideration for him, at the same time Wilhelm saw to his most basic needs, and every time he came, there was some hope of a mistake being made that would end up in his escape.

They soon were back in the yard, behind the shed. Simon was freed from the blanket, and his hands and legs untied, a mere hobble keeping his knees a few inches apart at the most. His limbs were numb from the previous tie-up anyway, and Wilhelm tied a rope around his neck. He left the gag, and told his prisoner not to mess with it.
"So my puppy doesn't run away!" he joked.
Simon was allowed to relieve himself in the ferns, then the German teen, obsessed with hygiene, handed the redheaded boy a bar of soap, and hosed him down. As the icy cold water struck him, Simon grunted out of discomfort.
"Come on, strong men like cold water, Simon!" the evil German teen teased him.
After a thorough lathering and a good rinsing, Wilhelm threw a dry towel to Simon, who could dry and rub himself to get a little warmer.

His hands were tied back behind his back before he was pushed inside the shed. Simon was quickly fed breakfast, consisting in old bread and water, and a fresh gag was then applied. Wilhelm had gone into focused mode, meaning he kept silent as he crammed two clean handkerchiefs inside Simon's mouth, and as he buckled up the red ball gag, as he plastered his lower face with tape to eventually secure the whole thing with the white silk scarf.

Then came the ropes, and Simon's arms were pulled back tight, his ankles tied to his thighs. He ended up kneeling with his legs at an angle.
"That should do for now. I'll be back in a while. I'll take you to some other place, my dad has got this nice hunting hut in the woods, it's a bit far, but I'll bring you back to the house once it's clear… Meanwhile, do try to get out of that!"

He left. Simon wriggled, realizing that he could move around the shed as his bonds would allow. No rope holding him to the ceiling or to some heavy piece of furniture this time!

He wiggled and squirmed to get close to the shovel behind him. Its side was not extremely sharp, but it had a little edge which would make it possible to wear the rope out…

He cautiously started to rub the thick hemp over the metal. It would be long, but he now knew that he had at least one hour to manage … One by one, he felt the strands of the rope encircling his wrists yielding. But there were many to cut before he would get loose...

Wilhelm was back into the house. He had greeted the carpenter's crew politely, and told the man he had seen the previous evening of his cousin leaving, and that the next time Simon would be around, he would certainly get his payback, which had made the man smile. His own memories of such games were fond, even though these times were long gone. Then Wilhelm went to the cellar. There, he fed the rabbits and the doves he had hidden two days previous. Tonight would be the night! Once in the hunting hut, he would have lots of fun with them, and he would certainly enjoy the look on Simon's face. He exited the cellar stealthily; he did not want to be seen. But he had failed, for Mr. Von Rautenberg wondered why his son would go in there. Had Wilhelm eventually decided to clean up the mess as he had been assigned a few months earlier, and postponed doing it making up the lamest excuses for postponing it? He had to find out the truth…

Simon was halfway through cutting the rope when the door's padlock was being fumbled with. He cursed silently, and went back as swiftly as he could where Wilhelm had left him. The door swung open, and it took Simon two seconds to realize the figure standing in the doorframe was not Wilhelm, for it was his brother Friedrich. They looked alike, and they dressed the same, but he was much smaller. He put down the bucket he was carrying, and rushed to Simon.
"You're Simon, the escape artist! But… What are you doing here?"
He kneeled and quickly removed the gag preventing Simon from answering.
"I suppose Wilhelm did that to you! My dad is going to be mad when he knows…"
"Thanks, Friedrich," Simon croaked, "Your brother is a really mean person…"
"Don't tell me about it, he's picked on us often enough. He even scared my friend Keith big time a few months back…"
He got behind Simon, and started to undo the knot keeping the ropes imprisoning his arms. But Simon's victory was short-lived…

"Well, look who we've got here! Friedrich the Snitch in person…"
"You won't get away with it this time, Wilhelm! Dad will send you to the institution he's promised to commit you to this time! Wait until I tell him!"
But Wilhelm's only answer was to jump on his brother, and after a short wrestling match, he had his sibling lying on his belly, his arms held in a tight lock.
"I don't think you're going to tell anyone about what you've seen…"

He had already grabbed a short piece of ropes and tied Friedrich's wrists together. Despite both boys' protests, the lashing continued, quick and thorough. Friedrich ended up tied up in a manner that would have been an easy escape for our escape artist, but the boy did not have Simon's practice…
"Du bist Krank im Kopf, Wilhelm! Don't make it harder on yourself," Friedrich pleaded again, "let us go now and I promise I won't tell…"

Wilhelm picked up the soggy scarves that had been used to gag Simon, and stuck them into his brother's mouth.
"Just like your friend Keith promised last time? I'm going to avoid you the embarrassment of making promises you don't keep. And to teach you calling me a loony…" He tied the white silk scarf over Friedrich's mouth so he could not spit out the hankies.
"Now let's see how my little Irish friend is doing…"
"Wilhelm, you're going to get caught, eventually… Let us go now, you…"
"Quiet!" Wilhelm snapped, turning red and no longer feigning benevolence. "Inferior races are denied any freedom of speech!"

Simon kept quiet, hoping that he would be gagged again quickly, and that Wilhelm would then leave without noticing that he had started cutting the ropes. The ball gag was taken from the floor and put back on Simon.
"Much better, Simon the Helpless Captive. Just stay where I want you!"
Simon was no longer surprised by the evil behavior, but he was wondering whether Wilhelm was not losing it completely. The teenager took a look at the bucket Friedrich had brought inside the shed.
"I'm out of scarves, so I guess I'll have to use what I've got under hand…"
What was in the bucket? What did he mean?
The teenager went to a shelf from which he took a square of green oiled canvas. He then came back to the bucket.

He thrust his hand inside, and took out a handful of what was inside: bugs! There were worms, and spiders, and cockroaches, and all kinds of disgusting crawling insects. Wilhelm noticed the puzzled look over his prisoner's face.
"Yes, my stupid brothers like to go fishing and they collect all sorts of creepy-crawlies beforehand… First time this is going to be any useful!"
He laid the fistful of live bait on the canvas piece, and warily took another one to get a tennis ball size pile. He then folded the four corners together, and brought the sides together with care. He closed the little bag he had made with a shoe lace.
"I wouldn't want to hurt the poor creatures…" he ironically added.

Simon was wondering where this would lead, but when Wilhelm came up to him, removed the red ball and brought the bag to his lips, he got genuinely disgusted.
"No, don't do mmm…"
Wilhelm had clamped a hand over his lips.
"I don't think I asked you to talk. I'm going to take my hand off, and you're going to open up big…"
He removed his hands, but Simon's lips remained shut.
"Are you really challenging me? We'll see…"
He pinched Simon's nose.
"Open wide; you know I'll win…"
Out of breath, Simon had to give in. He opened his mouth a little, and Wilhelm forced a thumb at the back of his mouth, thus keeping his jaws wide apart. He still had the bag in his other hand and inserted it carefully between Simon's teeth.
"Don't chew on it!" he joked as he tied a rope around the already knotted shoe lace, and then encircled Simon's head, keeping the bag and its gross content inescapably inside poor Simon's mouth.

Then it was the last straw on the camel's back…
"Simon! You had almost managed to cut the ropes! It's another "almost" for you."
Simon summoned all of his meditation skills at that very moment. He did not want to crack up. He had to make a tremendous effort to forget the less than pleasant content he had inside his mouth, for he felt the insects moving behind the canvas. He did not want to throw up, for it could be lethal. So, as Wilhelm handled him roughly to tie him up in an even worse position, he managed to get his mind thinking of a sunny prairie, in which he was playing with friends, bunnies and doves, where torturers like Wilhelm just did not exist.

He succeed, for neither Wilhelm's brutal moves nor Friedrich's indignant moans could get him away from his fancy for the following ten minutes. But good things have to end, especially with somebody like Wilhelm around, for he jumped on his feet and gloated over the tightly restrained escape artist.
"You won't go anywhere now!"
Simon realized at that moment the evil teenager was right. He was bundled up like he had never been before, chins against thighs and knees against chest, made into a ball with his arms, toes and fingers most severely restrained. And then, the loathsome feeling of the moving bugs inside his mouth. What Wilhelm then said and did should have sent him down the bottom of the pit, but something he felt with his left hand got some hope glimmering anew: another chance and this would be the good one to take!

"Two trussed up kids, then. My escape artist friend, that I keep challenging and who is a big failure, for he's been my prisoner for almost two days, and my meddling kid brother, who has been messing around with me way too much… I'm going to take you to the woods, because I need to take the necessary measures to be sure never to get caught. Weil ich bin ein Übermensch! Ach! Ach! Ach! Oh, by the way, Simon, I'll also take your pet friends with us tonight."
Was he talking about the bunnies and the doves? So, they were not alone wandering in the wild? He moaned in concern.
"Yes, your rabbits, and your birds. As we're going to our hunting hut, I'll use them to show you some of my talents as a hunter!"

"Mmmmblmm!"
"I know, I should be nice, but I'm not!" Wilhelm chuckled as he poured the rest of the bucket over Simon.
"And, as my little brother here likes to act as the degenerates we have back home in Germany, and who go camping in the nude, that's how you'll both be dressed. Wild boys! Ah! Ah! Ah!"
Simon heard the evil laughter as the blanket he was lying on got wrapped around him, trapping the worms and bugs with him. Both ends of the folded blanket got knotted, so it was like if he was in a sack.
"See you, boys! We'll have much more fun, or at least, I'll have much more fun!"
Simon heard him going out the shed, still laughing and soon all he could hear was the faint noise of the various insects and others gross, scary beings locked in the sack with him, and the desperate moans of Friedrich, who was much more afraid than Simon. But this time, Simon knew he was saved…

Chapter 7: Free at last!


In the dark and warm space that the blanket had become, in the company of the appalling bugs, Simon was paradoxically feeling that for the first time he could escape. Not to mention the fact that Friedrich was tied up loosely enough to get out of his bonds. But the muffled groans he could hear outside his woolen prison made him doubt that Wilhelm's brother would be the first to free himself. One important factor that made him think so positively was the use by the evil teen of the magic rope.

It had been used at other moments since he had been "abducted" by Wilhelm, but it was the first time the tampered part was within his fingers' reach. His fingers were cruelly tied together, but since Wilhelm was really starting to lose it, he had not threaded the shoelaces like before, and there was a little space for his thumb. He focused on this reality, which helped him forget about the swarming mass tickling his palate and his tongue. After a short while, he got his thumb out of the noose, and from there on the whole shoelace holding his fingers motionless would quickly follow…

A few miles away from the shed where the two boys were locked, and one hour earlier, Stilo had woken up in a ditch. He could not remember what had happened and why he was lying in the grass, dressed in his magician outfit. It took him a few minutes to come to his senses, and he then decided to walk south, hoping it would get him back to Goodland. He had merely walked a few steps when he heard the faint hum of an engine in the distance. Pretty soon a small truck had caught up with him, and stopped as he waved. He was heading the good way, and the truck driver offered to give him a lift to Goodland. Twenty minutes later, Stilo was in the main street, and as he recovered, he thought about Simon… Then in a flash he saw again the estate they had performed in, and he had a fuzzy image in his mind of Simon tied to a tree. He had to go there. Now.

Mr. Von Rautenberg had gone to the aeronautics plant where he had quickly wrapped up the tasks that required his presence. Around eleven, he was done, and he left to go back to his house. This time, he knew there was something wrong, he could not help but feel that his older son was up to something. Once he had been home, he had gone straight down to the cellar.

Having seen Wilhelm come out from this unusual place had puzzled him, and set him thinking. After a quick inspection, he had found two big cages with rabbits and pigeons. Apparently they had not suffered from the cruelty Wilhelm had already used on small animals. Still, it was even more intriguing. And then he realized where these pets came from! Wilhelm had stolen them from the Magician two days previous! He climbed the stairs swiftly, and flung Wilhelm's bedroom door open.
"What does this mean? When did you steal the magician's animals?"

Wilhelm was calm. He had heard his father's car in the driveway, and he had had plenty of time to settle down at his desk, pretending to do his homework as he was supposed to.
"Animals? What are you talking about, dad?"
"The cages in the cellar, wo hast du die von? Where do they come from?"
"That's what I've wondered also… I think you should ask Friedrich when he comes home for lunch. He knows about it, that's for sure!"
" Du kleiner Dieb!" The evil teen's dad knew perfectly well that his son was lying, but he had long given up on getting straight answers from Wilhelm. He knew it was hopeless. Thankfully, his two younger sons were very different, and in the good way. He would wait for Friedrich and find out about what was going on.

In the shed, the sun had the temperature going up. Simon did not know if what he felt on his skin was sweat running down or bugs crawling on him. Those animals in his mouth were less and less bothering him, as they either had died or stopped moving, he did not know. At last his fingers were free and the magic rope had been loosened. Now, in the dark, he had to put into play what he had learned at practice.

Both ropes running over his lower back were loose, and he now could reach the knot at the top of his thighs. He stretched, ever so slowly, to reach the knot with his fingers. Friedrich had stopped grunting, and except for some motion he heard from time to time, he was staying quite still. "Let's hope Wilhelm leaves me a little bit of time…" Simon wished to himself.

As Joseph came in the living room twenty minutes later, he was surprised to find his father home.
"You're home early, dad?" he asked joyfully. But Mr. Von Rautenberg answered with a tone that meant there was to be trouble.
"Not really. Where is Friedrich?"
"I don't know, he's not in his room. He just had to go get some bugs as we go fishing this afternoon."
"This means someone is lying, and I don't think it's you. What is it, Siegfried?" he asked, as the butler entered the room.
"It's Stilo, the magician who came on Tuesday. He wants to see you…"
"Let him in, Siegfried," he sighed, for the butler's manners at this time of the day showed he must have been drinking. But where did he get his booze?"

Wilhelm had gone down on tiptoe into the stairs to eavesdrop on the conversations going on in the living room. It was impossible to go down the stairs without being seen from people who were there. He hoped his father would go some place else, because he had to go check on his prisoners. He now tried to remember if he had tied the knots on Friedrich totally out of reach. He hid as his youngest brother came in, and was glad he did not know much. But then, when Stilo was shown in, his whole plan was smashed to pieces…
"Mr. Von Rautenberg, "Stilo asked shyly, "I'm sorry to disturb you at home…"
"No, not at all, you've come to get your animals back, I understand very well…"
"Well, uh, yes, but also my assistant…"
"The red-haired boy? He's still here?"

There was a brief pause, and Wilhelm could almost hear the cogs turning into his dad's head, even from a distance. Then he heard him rush out from the living room, and scream from the bottom of the stairs: "WILHELM!!!"
He walked down two steps, making himself seen from his father.
"And you were spying on me, on top of it? That's the straw that breaks the camel's back! So you know what I'm going to ask you?"
Stilo had come behind Mr. Von Rautenberg, and was eagerly waiting for the answer.
"He's… he's in the shed. I've got him tied up in the shed." And he started crying. He was actually breaking down, as he was prone to.

Stilo pictured the location immediately in his mind, and rushed out of the house, running to rescue Simon from these two days, as he had found out from the truck driver, these two days at the hands of this apparently nice kid, who had turned out to be a monster.

Once he had gotten rid of the ropes, Simon had been able to take the awful gag out of his mouth. He still had to make his way out from the blanket. But it was easy; the twine knotting it was not tight. He had been able to feel fresher air, for it was quite warm inside. Before he had gone to free Friedrich, he had gone to the door, opened it, to get some air and to make sure Wilhelm was not coming. It had been his fear, but the path was clear. It had taken only a few seconds to free Friedrich. He then heard someone running in the distance. They had to flee! They hastily got out from the tool shed, only to find themselves face to face with Stilo…
"Simon!"
"Stilo! You've come at last!"
They hugged warmly, but Simon quickly cut the embrace: "Stilo, this is Friedrich. I've rescued him after I got myself untied."
He was beaming with pride at his feat.
"This older boy, did he hurt you?"
"No," Simon bragged, willing to make an impression on Friedrich, "he challenged me to escape, and I did!"
Obviously the young Von Rautenberg was impressed.
"Let's go back to the house, I'm hungry. Are you hungry too, Simon?"
"Yes, I'd eat anything but worms!"
Both boys laughed, leaving Stilo puzzled.

They sat at the kitchen table and Siegfried brought them sandwiches and lemonade. Meanwhile, Mr. Von Rautenberg was talking in the living room with Stilo.
"I'm afraid my son Wilhelm is a disgrace to our family, Mr. The Great."
"Oh, just call me Stilo it's fine. And all's well that ends well…"
"I'm sure glad this does not end up badly. But he was told that he would not get another chance. I've already called an institution that should be able to help him. They're supposed to have very efficient electroshock therapy that does wonders for people like Wilhelm… But, then, I'd like all this sad misadventure not to be known around town."
Stilo was not too eager for having it known either, for he felt responsible for what had happened also. And he did not really want to experiment with the type of therapy intended for the evil teen.


"It seems Simon is all right. I see no reason for making a big fuss about the whole thing. You're handling the situation so it does not happen again anyway…"
"Fine, then. Here is some compensation for time lost from work…" Mr. Von Rautenberg said as he handed Stilo a thick envelope. "Let's go see how the kids are doing."
Friedrich and Simon were done with lunch, and Simon was introducing his pets to Friedrich. They had fetched the cages in the hall, and they were quite busy looking at the small signs that allowed Simon to tell a dove from another one.

"Well Simon, why don't you go put some clothes on?" Stilo said, suddenly concerned that walking around in just his briefs was a bit out of place in this upper-class environment.
"You might want to go take a bath?" inquired Mr. Von Rautenberg.
Simon was more than willing to use the bathroom he had had a glimpse of the day before, and in much better conditions…
"Oh yes, thank you very much!"
So he walked upstairs, and Friedrich showed him how the faucets worked, and where everything needed was.


Half an hour later, he came back down dressed in his overalls and shirt. He felt really good, and he was glad this was all over. As he walked downstairs, he met men all dressed in white who were heading for the first floor. As he came into the kitchen, Mr. Von Rautenberg greeted him: "Feeling better, Simon?" It seemed this whole cleaning up to feel better thing was a family concern, after all…
"Yes. Are the people in white the carpenters?"
"No, these are the male nurses who've come to take Wilhelm away…"

There was some racket just above, screams that did not last and a "thump" could clearly be heard, from some furniture falling on the floor. Then there were steps in the stairs. One of the guys in white Simon had seen before came in.
"It seems this is quite a case you've got here, Mr. Von Rautenberg… But we're used to handle them. Could you sign these papers?"
Simon looked out the window. Two men were holding Wilhelm who was in a straightjacket. He turned around, and Simon saw that they had muzzled him. Friedrich had looked also, and he said:
"They've done the same we did with the rabid dog over in Germany!"
"Don't make fun of your brother, Friedrich!"
"But Dad, I'm not…"
"That's it, it's painful enough like that."
The male nurse had gone out and joined his colleagues. They all had gone into the van that took off.

Everybody was silent in the kitchen. Simon himself did not know if he was really glad. Sure, Wilhelm had been very, very mean, and he could have done even worse things to him had he not escaped. But he did not know if he had to be happy about what was going to happen.
"If you're ready, Simon, I think we ought to go. I'm sure we are expected back at the circus…"
They took leave, put all of their things on the small cart, and headed back to where they had come from just two days before. Simon breathed in deep, and smiled to the sun that had started going down.
"This was quite an adventure, Stilo. But you know what? I don't really want to have another one like that soon!"

The End

[Veracity]

Wow! This really takes me back. I remember reading it on the long defunct LID board many many years ago.

[Xtc]

It's still my favourite of your tales. Any chance of reinstating the pics?

[skdj]

Thanks for reposting this great story; I hadn't seen it before.

[Bondwriter]

Glad you enjoyed it, skjd.
I don't know how to post pics efficiently, but you may download the pdf.

It's password protected, pwd is simon

[Xtc]

I've got the file, thanks. I've just spotted the snag: I think we can only append a max of five pics per post. Never mind, it was worth a thought.

[kankuro10]

Wow. Thanks for sharing this amazing story again. A long time since I read it for the last time (I love The Adventures of Simon)

[Bondwriter]

The Adventures of Simon


The Evil Clown


1/ Eavesdropping on the boys


"OK, now you twist your arm a little… Yes, just like that! Do you feel the noose getting a little looser?"

"Yes! Hey, it's fun! I didn't think it could be THAT much fun!"

Friedrich got his wrist out from the rope encircling it. Simon was really pleased with the last two hours he had spent with his new friend. It was the last day the circus was in Goodland, Kansas, and they would leave the next. Late August in the Midwest was still warm and pleasant, and they were next to Simon and Stilo's caravan, the usual practice location. It was the third morning Friedrich came to visit; the ordeal both boys had been through certainly was cause for them having gotten along together. And Friedrich, despite being slightly older than Simon, looked up to him because he was a circus artist and he had escaped from his mean brother Wilhelm. And he was eager to learn a few escapology tricks; it could prove helpful if he got in the claws of some gangster some day.

"Wow, Simon, you're lucky to do this everyday!"

"Being a circus artist has its downsides also. The practice and training part is fun, that's for sure, but there's also a lot of jobs to do that are not as fun. Like cleaning up, or carrying buckets of water and stuff… Plus being with just grown-ups all the time is sometimes weird!"

"They seem nice. Princess Deridjah likes you!" Friedrich joked. Simon pretended not to hear. He liked "Deridjah," whom he called Liz, but she had this annoying manner to treat him like a little boy that bugged him sometimes.

"It certainly is more entertaining living in this circus than back at the farm, but I'm glad you've come these last few days. It's nice practicing with someone your age. To Stilo, it's always like a job. With you, it's more like a game…"

"Yes, it is. Every time Wilhelm tied up either Joseph or me, it was always to be mean. And he didn't need to tie us up to be mean. He always found out new manners to make us miserable. And it got worse since he started reading these books."

Things on how to be mean? Such books exist?" Simon asked half-jokingly.

"No, political things. My dad was mad about that; he said Wilhelm was a disgrace to our family and to all of the German people. Uh, Simon, before I have to go, could you tie me up as you were in the shed after I found you before I have to go?"

"Sure! But it's really tight, you know…"

"Just to see how it felt, if you don't mind, then you untie me…"

They kept on talking as Simon set to work, grabbing the ropes and getting Friedrich into a nice tight bundle….

On the other side of the caravan, sitting in the grass mending his stage costume was Brett, also known as Zekko the Clown. His name was actually neither Brett nor Zekko. It name was André le Goff. He was French, and he had been born in Brittany, or Bretagne in French, hence his alias. He had moved to America fourteen years before just after the end of the Great War. He had been suspected of various unsavory activities during this troubled period, from embezzlement to fraud, and had boarded a liner in Le Havre the day before the police came to arrest him. Once he had landed in New York, he had decided to start again with a clean slate. He had had various occupations, as a warehouseman or as a meat packer before he decided to go into entertainment.

He had met Dave, his partner Pippo in a bar in Saint Louis. Dave's wife had just left him and they had become buddies on the very first evening. They shared the same dreams of fame and glory, and they thought of moving to Hollywood to become actors. But their dreams had taken them only as far as Chicago, where they joined a club at first. They had a comedy routine which worked rather fine in the club where they performed. But Dave had a gambling problem and after a year of relative success they had to flee from a local bookie who was acquainted with the mob. They had joined the circus in Wisconsin, and they had toured the Midwest for quite a number of years now, but things had not improved much ever since. André had grown bitter; he still got along OK with Dave but things were different. Not to mention other artists. He secretly blamed them for not having become rich and famous. But the truth was that deep down in his heart, he was bad. He had always lied, cheated and stolen. Yes, since he lived in America, he was showing a better face and had somehow acted better, but still…

As he listened to the two kids chirping a few feet away from him, his presence unknown from them, he could not help but having mean thoughts. The little ginger making friend with a jerry! How ridiculous! And all this escapology stuff! How stupid! Plus he'd get stuck someday with the loony loser Stilo! André, as all the people from the circus, was well aware of this first incident when Simon had been left hanging by the wrists for a whole afternoon. Now there was always someone to monitor the escape artistry to Stilo's request. That's when André got more interested in the kids' tweets…

"One more piece of rope and you'll be a neat parcel, Friedrich! Are you sure it's OK?"

"Yes, I'm fine… So is there something special that makes Stilo go berserk before he ties you up so you can't escape?"

"I don't know… It kind of comes out of the blue."

"There was nothing special that you remember of these two times he did it?"

"Uh… Let me see. The rope is not too tight here?"

"No, it's OK. This is tight; I don't think I'll get out of this one… Did you say something special before it happened? Did you hear something particular?"

"Well, not really. But… but…. Wait! Yes I remember smelling something particular both times! Cigar smoke! The guys were smoking cigars we got as payment the first time and your brother was smoking a cigar as he watched us perform!"

"He did? He must have stolen them from Dad… Uh… Are you also going to gag me, so it's just like you in the tool shed?"

"Yeah, let me find something… Cigar smoke! This could be the thing! This scarf should do, here we go…"

While Simon and Friedrich were playing their little game, André was pondering what he had just heard. So Stilo lost it because of cigar smoke… It was an information that could prove handy should there be a need for playing a nasty trick on him and this brat Simon. Would André have fulfilled his dreams of fame and glory, he would have certainly talked with juggler, vaudeville artist, and actor W.C. Fields about how animals and children get all the audience's attention and how it should be avoided to work with them. For this red-haired kid was good; in less than three months he had become an asset in the show. André walked away with his mended jacket, chewing his bitter thoughts over…

Simon had the bunnies hop over the balled up Friedrich for a few minutes, getting muffled giggles from his new friend through the scarf lightly tied over his mouth, and then he untied him.

"I'm glad this did not last too long! It was great, Simon! It's time to go home if I don't want to be late for lunch."

"Goodbye, Friedrich. I sure was glad meeting you. Here is for you."

Simon handed him a short piece of rope tied in a reef knot.

"This is so you remember me. The two ends of the rope are like our friendship."

"Thanks a lot. This means a lot to me."

And they parted, each of them having a different life to go on with.

Two weeks later, the circus was in Aurora, Colorado. It was still warm enough to practice outside, and Simon and Stilo were starting their session with magic tricks, with the bunnies and the doves leaping and flying around them. Brett/ André was the one monitoring their rehearsal, and he was casually sitting on the steps to Stilo's caravan. Simon was particularly cheerful since he had had more and more excellent response from the audience wherever they had performed. And today was a big day: there was a circus manager coming to see the performance. Maybe this would mean the end of money problems for all of them. All of them? André didn't know for sure. Maybe he would get kicked out because of the increasing success of Simon and Stilo. But he had a plan to make sure this would not happen…


2. André goes into action

Simon and Stilo had done the handcuffs exercises, now they went into the chains ones. Powderpuff, Simon's favorite bunny was leaping around them joyfully. He stopped for a second, looking down curiously at a small hole in the grass.

Had he been a beetle, he could have gotten down inside the hole, fallen a foot and then he would have crawled for another thirty feet in a 1-inch wide lead pipe, or ten meters in a 2-centimeter tube in André's metric system, whose mouth he would have entered if he'd been able to climb up the pipe and then a hose pipe that André was putting against his lips. But Powderpuff was no beetle, and he kept hopping around the magician and his assistant.

André's nefarious plan had been carefully thought out. Burying the pipe underground had been quite a feat. There was no sign that the grass had been freshly dug, and the hole the rabbit had seen was so discreet it was impossible to notice without having your nose right on it. André knew it was the time. If he didn't want to be fired, he had to find a way to get this kid Simon, ce satané garnement, as he said in his weird language, out of the race.

He had the upper hand on Stilo and Simon, having the precious information about Stilo's fits of madness. It hadn't been too difficult either to be the one monitoring the practice session. They took turns but getting a change in the weekly schedule was no big deal. So here he was, inhaling the smoke that he expected would bring him the solution to his problem.

He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with what would eventually bring his demise years later (but this is yet another story). He then let out a big puff through the pipe. He repeated this operation several times. On the other end, through the hole, the smoke started to spread in the air. It was a windless day, and coils of smoke whirled around, as Simon was now chained with his hands in front of him, held tightly against his chest. Classic Houdini trick… When he eventually detected the cursed smell, it was too late.

Stilo had started adding padlocks in various places, and his eyes had taken the mad look his fits caused. Simon knew he shouldn't panic. Brett was around, so he just had to wait for Stilo to be done restraining him and leave. It took about two minutes to a grumbling, shaky Stilo to be done with his task.

Then Simon had chains keeping his limbs immobile and Stilo dashed off; Simon hoped he would be back soon. He was getting concerned about Stilo's welfare.
"Hey Brett! Could you come over for a minute?"
As the bunny looked up to Simon with a puzzled look, the young escape artist reassured him.
"That's OK Powderpuff, it's gonna be fine…"

"Alors, Simon, what's ze problem?"
André had come from behind the caravan. He was dressed in his performing costume.
"Stilo has had one of his fits, could you help me out? We've got to find him quick, because the performance is in a few hours only…"
André came closer, and the thick clown makeup hid his snarl.
"Where are ze keys for ze padlocks, Simon? Did Stilo leave wizzem?"
"I'm not sure. He might have. There are duplicate keys in the caravan."
"Bien, bien… Let's go get zem. You'll show me."

Simon was a bit puzzled as to why André was picking him up and taking him towards the caravan. It would have been easier to fetch the keys.
Once they were in the caravan. André softly put him down on his feet.
"D'abord, let's first make sure you remain quiet…"
"What's going on Brett, wait, I don't wanna mmmph!"
The usual silk ball kept in place by his red ball gag quickly put an end to any attempt he'd have done at yelling.

"You see, mon jeune ami, I have ways to fight competition. I need to make a good impression zis afternoon, and I'm better off wiz you out of ze way…"
André laughed in such a manner that Simon wondered who was the most insane: Stilo or the clown? He groaned angrily, as the chains feel one by one, only to be replaced by ropes. André's sailing background came in handy, as he knew good knots that were almost more restraining than the chains. And his talking as he tied him up was getting really frightening.

"You're gonna stay in here, peaceful and quiet… Your friend Stilo is gone, so no show for you… Le spectacle est terminé! It's all over for you career! And tomorrow, we will be ze stars of ze circus! Ha! Ha!"
The knots were good, but the amount of rope was not overwhelming. But then André picked Simon up again and put him inside a props trunk that was open.


"Zis will be your prison for ze day! I'll come tonight to free you, when ze contract is signed and you've been fired!"

Another burst of evil laughter resounded in the caravan. Obviously insanity was running around these days, as Simon could not see how the circus could actually get a contract with Stilo and him not showing up. A circus without a magician would never attract anyone…

"Watch your head! I'm closing!"
Simon quickly ducked, as the lid was slammed shut and he heard the padlocks being used to lock him inside.
In the dark and cramped space, Simon started feeling the ropes. He had to get out of his bonds, and then out of this trunk, so the circus could hope to go on with the show…


3/ I'll get by with a little help from my friend

After a brief assessment of the situation, Simon calmly got to work. He was in the dark, which he didn't like very much, but by now he knew how not to panic. The ropes were tight and the knots were good, but there was a major flaw in André's job: the ropes had not been linked to each other, so a little squirming quickly got the rope wrapped around his chest to slide over his shoulders.

There was a little space now for Simon to calmly struggle against the ropes. Little by little he got the wrist cuffs off, and from there he soon was free of any bond, and he eventually removed the ball gag and the silk packed inside his mouth.

He was not saved yet, as the box was not a tricked one. He started pounding and calling for help, knowing there was little e chance he would be heard. But after a few minutes, he heard steps coming inside the caravan. The fact he didn't hear any voice calling out got him worried.

He had reasons to be, for as he got blinded by the light as the lid was opened, he quickly could figure out who was opening the trunk lid. And it was not a reassuring sight.
"Ze little brat is better at his trade than I had thought! Sale gosse! I'm going to have to be better with ze knots myself…"
Simon tried to scream, but his yelling was smothered by a big, garlic-smelling hand.

Only a few yards away, but totally unaware of the dreadful treatment Simon was once again undergoing, Liz and Dave were discussing the important matinee performance they were supposed to have.
"Say, Dave, did you see Stilo dash out from the camp? Maybe we should go see where he went. He might've had another fit, you know…"
"Yup. We'd better hurry. We need to find him quickly before he has to perform. Should we go check on Simon?"
"Nah… He's with Brett, so he's OK. But we've gotta find Stilo. You're right, if he and Simon don't perform, it'd jeopardize the circus' chances to get better funding. And we'd sure be better off with more money… Let's go now, there's no time to waste…"

Back inside the caravan, despite his heavy struggling, Simon had been overpowered by the burly man, who had used a large amount of ropes to make sure the young escape artist would stay put this time. Not only coils of rope wrapped Simon's limbs at numerous places, above and below the joints, but he was now kept completely helpless.

André, aka Brett had first removed a mattress from one of the beds, underneath which he had slid the hogtied Simon, but he had the used more rope to link the trussed-up boy to the bed base's slats, preventing any motion. His ankles, wrists, elbows, and neck were attached to the wooden slats. Simon could not roll around or squirm in the least.

No less than seven silk scarves had been used to make sure Simon would not call for help. Two were inside his mouth, one was cleave gagging him and keeping the soggy ball trapped behind his lips, one covered the whole thing, one was knotted over his nicely groomed ginger hair tightly so it pulled his jaws together, and two more were used to cover his lower face and his eyes.

"Ze little Houdini is stuck zis time, n'est-ce pas? I'll come check on you Simon, don't worry…"
And he put the mattress back onto the bed, so Simon would be hidden from view.

Liz and Dave had soon spotted Stilo some 1,000 feet ahead of them, but he did not hear them calling his name. Was it because of the distance or because of his state of mind? They could not say. They sped up, but the ground was not flat, and he got out of sight. They reached a crossroad, and they had to decide if he had gone left or right. Dave looked closely at the ground, trying to find footprints to get on the right track.

Simon was desperate. No knots within reach, all the rope wrapping him up was getting painful and would not loosen in any way. Then he felt something soft and warm against his left thigh. It moved around, tickling him. Fur and whiskers. If it was who he thought it was, he had a chance. He grunted into his tight gag. Would it work? Was the reassuring presence this of the animal he had carefully tamed over the last three months? Would all these hours of careful work eventually pay off?

Dave was good at identifying prints on the ground. His background as a country kid trailing animals as he had to hunt got to be useful this time; they chose to take the path on the right, and it paid off. After ten minutes walking, they saw a human shape lying down in the ditch. It was Stilo indeed. He had passed out. Liz came down by his side, and talking gently at first, then louder, and finally resorting slapping him rather roughly, she revived the magician.

Simon now knew it was Powderpuff who had come to his sides. He had trained this smart and friendly bunny to react to finger snaps. And it proved handy. Obviously the phrase "clever as a rabbit" did not exist, but it could have been invented for Powderpuff, who understood that his young master being trussed up was not an ordinary situation. Plus he was trained to gnaw at ropes when fingers were snapped three times.

Simon had thought that it would be a good number to have him saved by bunnies, so he had gone into hours of work with this particular rabbit who seemed the fittest to learn tricks. He had also trained a dove to fetch keys for locks and handcuffs, but it would not prove too helpful this time…

Stilo opened his eyes.
"Where… where am I?"
"I knew you'd say that!" Liz replied cheerfully, glad to see he regained his senses so fast.
"You're two miles away from the circus… We've got to go back quickly so we're ready for performing with this circus manager coming to visit. Can you walk?"
"Yes, I'm a little dizzy, but… Simon… I've left him all chained up… I hope he's OK…"
"Not to worry, Brett will have taken care of him… Let's go now"

Alas! Brett/ André had taken care of Simon all right, but not in the benevolent manner he was supposed to. But he should also have taken care of the smart furry rodent, who went straight to the wrist ropes, and kept on eating into the rope binding his young master and friend. His sharp little teeth worked wonders to cut the hemp rope severely restraining Simon. So much that when André came back half an hour after having left, he found Simon standing and stretching, spitting out the two scarves out from his mouth, with Powderpuff proudly standing also on his back legs, waiting for the reward he usually got when he performed well: a slice of carrot.

"Sacrebleu! Petit démon!" (Had Simon learned French in school, he would not have been too happy to hear André's cussing and calling him a "little devil"…)
"Tu vas voir! You're gonna see!"
Simon was cornered, with a threatening clown approaching him, chains in hand. He would fight this time, as he grabbed a stool to defend himself from the mad, jealous comedian.

"Cut it out, Brett!" a strong voice ordered.
It was Dave. "What are you doing?"
"Hey, Dave, nothing… I'm just practicing with Simon, as Stilo…"
"Who do you think you're fooling?" Simon cried angrily. "You're just insane and mean!"
Defeated, André sat down on the bed and put his head into his hands.
The next ten minutes were used by Simon, Stilo, Liz and Dave to explain what had been going on.

André had recovered from the power trip and craze that had overwhelmed him. Now a wave of shame overcame him.
"I don't know what went through your head, Brett," Dave said, "but you'll have to work something out. You can't go around hurting kids like this…"
"I… I don't know what to say…" André stood as if he were to apologize and try to make up for his unacceptable behavior. But quick as lightning, and despite his clown shoes, he jumped out from the caravan. This time, it was he who ran away.

This very evening, he had not yet come back.
"We won't see him again…" Dave said sadly as the whole circus crew had gathered around the fire to celebrate their success. They now had a serious manager who would see to getting them better locations and more generous deals. The show had been one of the finest in weeks. Dave had managed to do a new act all by himself that was actually fresher and more entertaining than the old routines they pulled with Brett.

There were boisterous laughs and jokes all the way around, and Brett's disappearance was almost unnoticed. Like he had been a burden to the whole crew, even though it had gone unnoticed.
"I don't think I wanna see him again anyway…" Simon replied to Dave "He really scared me, I mean, it's not like Stilo going crazy, which I'm kinda getting used to… But it was like Brett was oozing hatred… I don't understand how he got so jealous and mean…"
"People don't always act rationally, Simon." Stilo explained. "And I guess we'll have to be extra careful not to have any cigar smoke around when we perform or we practice…"
"That's for sure…" Simon patted Powderpuff on his head and softly stroked him between his two long ears. "You know what, Powdy? We're not in Kansas anymore…"

The End.

to be continued in The Big Cheese

[kankuro10]

I'm excited. Another story of "Adventures of Simon" (I think I remember reading this a long time ago).

"The Big Cheese"? I'm interested in this future story.

[Bondwriter]

Here is a Simon story that was posted briefly on the GID board a while back. It's 8 chapters long and not complete (but it almost is, so good reading numbers and comments could trigger a completion)

The Big Cheese

1/ Pancrazio's broad should be pleased

Pancrazio Ciamparella put the newspaper down. At last he had an idea so the party he had to throw next week for his floozy wife's birthday would be a success. He had already booked Chicago's finest caterer, he had invited all his Captains and their crews. His lieutenants had muscle out in all his speak-easies. He expected retaliation from the O'Connell gang after he had their bootlegger's still raided.

Like everyone else the warehouse was full of whiskey from Canada, shipped through Detroit. But O'Connell came from a long line of Irishmen who had nothing but scorn for the Canada product. His ancestors were making 'poteen' and Irish Whiskey before the first Scot ever tasted their own swill. The Irish went to O'Connell's joints. The Canada stuff was for Wisconsin and southern Illinois.

A nice bonfire it had been, and his trigger men had proved their worth with an adequate body count. But now he knew he had to fear the Micks' chopper squads. If he wanted to keep on ruling the whole hooch business, plus his can houses, he had to stay alive. And in his business, it was the toughest thing to do.

But he also had to please his doll, Ornella, a swell dame if there was any. So the party had to be a success. He had musicians, a hot jazz band that had been recommended by his cousin Giovanni. But he needed other acts, like jugglers or acrobats or magicians. And that's what he had just found.

There was a circus in Cicero, and the paper said there were a magician and his kid assistant who were really doing a swell act. And they had two acts in one, since the kid was mentioned as a new Houdini. That would surely be a success with his dame and his guests.

Giovanni Calzone got to Cicero late on this December morning. He had looked carefully out for any sign of the Irish gang trailing him, but there were apparently. He asked his way through to a woman who was all wrapped in thick woolen shawls. "dang gypsies and their glad rags," Giovanni thought.

He was none too bright and had no manners to speak of. His fists did his talking and he could make music with a tommy gun. But he was here to hire some magician for the moll's birthday party. Some cake-eater's job, not something for a hood of his kind. But, well, what the Big Cheese wanted, the Big Cheese got.

He headed to the wagon he had been directed to. He knocked at the door and entered. This time though, he wouldn't pump metal into the people who were behind the door. And Giovanni was equally surprised by what he saw: a red-haired boy was thoroughly trussed up to a chair.

The ginger kid looked at him only half surprised. Giovanni noticed he was getting his hands loose from the thick rope bracelets keeping them together.

Then he saw an older jasper wearing worn clothes. Giovanni could not help feeling this was some pitiful goose, but the man's authoritative tone surprised him nonetheless.
"What can I do to help you, Sir?" the man snapped at him.
"Uh, have you ever heard of Don Ciamparella?"
"I don't think I have, but I have a feeling you're gonna tell me about him…" Stilo replied.

2. A problem to solve

While Stilo was busy listening to Giovanni's request in the caravan, Pancrazio Camparella was doing what he was most renowned at doing: terrorizing, threatening and eliminating. In the warehouse on North Side, in which many fakeloo artists regretted trying to con him, Pancrazio had a major case to settle. He was standing at the bottom of a 4-foot square of a cement pit at the back of the warehouse.

It was 7 feet deep, and a small ladder was sealed in the cement to climb in and from the pit. Just in front, there was a chair. On the chair sat a boy, held to it by a pair of handcuffs attached to a back rung.

"Come down, Michele! Let me introduce you to 'Jim O' Flanagan'. Or should I say Bobby McIntosh?"
The boy looked really afraid as Pancrazio hissed his real name. Michele looked with his big bovine eyes.
"Say Don. This ragazzo has two names?"
Don turned slowly towards Michele. Had he not promised to take care of this man to his dying father in Sicily, he would certainly be rid of him by now.

"No, Michele, no. He's got his street urchin name and his police snitch name, which is his actual name."
"What are you saying? It's not true, mmmmph!"
With Michele's fat hand now covering his mouth, Jim (as everybody called him anyway) was silenced.
"Do not interrupt the Don…" Michele slowly voiced with his thick Italian accent. Then he turned to Don Pancrazio. "But Don! Isn't he a bit young to get the 'full treatment'?"
"Ah, Michele! You're still a sentimental person! Yes, I still believe in not whacking anyone under 15. Bad publicity. The Micks do that, not me. But this guy here is a solid 19 years old."

Michele removed his hand to watch the guy's face. He didn't look older than 13 or 14, with his big washed-down blue-green eyes and his round soft face. No stubble or any hint that he had become a man. He just looked like a smart, quick street kid as there were so many in Chicago. Quite peculiar, Michele thought.
"Bene, Michele. It's time to go and to bid farewell to this little nuisance. He's been giving too many information to the O' Connells AND the coppers. And he's 19, and has used this angel baby face of his to fool too many good people for too long. Get him ready for il bagno!"
Bobby was smart enough to guess it meant "the bath".

Michele took the necessary items out from the leather satchel he had put on the floor. Bobby tried not to lose his cool. He was handcuffed to the chair, having been snatched by Pancrazio's goons a few hours earlier. His wrists behind his back, his ankles to the chair's feet held him fast. And this big punk took ropes out. Maybe Bobby's life would end on this very day… But as Michele worked with ropes, Bobby felt a new hope swell inside his chest.

The handcuffs were removed as rope was wrapped around Bobby's legs and torso.
"Good thinking, Michele, the handcuffs could give us away."
Yes, Bobby thought, and they could ensure he wouldn't escape from the chair. Don Pancrazio kept on commenting.
"Yes, nice and taut over the shoulders… It's so sad when a youngster drowns in the Chicago River. That's where you'll be thrown in tonight. No foul play to be suspected, so neither the Law nor the Micks will have the slightest hint at why you died."
Bobby knew better than antagonizing the gang leader. He was lucky enough not to be killed yet and he didn't want to push his luck.

"Make sure he doesn't alert his friends or he gets heard by elephant ears." He meant the police, certainly but Bobby learned new words everyday. Michele gagged him by filling his mouth with a big hankie, and then slapped tape over his mouth and around his head six or seven times. Now the boy could only rely on himself. Michele climbed out from the pit.

Pancrazio turned a faucet on and the pit began to fill with water.
"Addio, Bobby! The next time I see you, it will be your mug in the newspaper, a bit different if you stay in the River for a few days. I'd have loved to watch you drown, but we've got tons of important business to attend. A moll to please, you see? So please take all the time to make your prayers. You've got lots to have forgiven." The big metal gate at the other end was smashed shut. Now Bobby was on his own, and there was no time to waste.

In Stilo's caravan, Simon was making a demonstration of his skills to a dumb-founded Giovanni. The magic impressed the thug a lot, but the escape artistry even more, as he remembered the many times knowing how to get out of handcuffs would have been useful. When Giovanni said Don Pancrazio planned to pay them $200, Stilo and Simon did not flinch. They politely accepted; Simon had learned somehow to hide his emotions when doing business deals.
"See you on Saturday, then!" Giovanni greeted them. "I'll come pick you up at five!"

3/ Making decisions

Not losing my cool, Bobby thought. He chuckled to himself, since the cold water that was now at ankles level did keep his feet cold! That's when he felt the first rope loosening. The big loop encircling his shoulders went up until it slipped up. He could squirm around a bit more, which proved useful to get his elbows out of the cord circled around them. From there it was child's play to get rid of all the ropes restraining him. The water wasn't even up to his knees before he got his wrists untied. He didn't bother removing the gag as he scrambled out of the pit.

He poked his head carefully out the pit, making sure no goon had been left behind to prevent his escape. But the coast was clear. These bums were incredibly over-confident. They didn't know how to tie a knot and thought he'd wait peacefully to get drowned. Bobby thanked them for being careless, for he'd expected to eat some lead from Pancrazio's piece.

Bobby knew his blue eyes had saved him many times. His gaze and maybe his looks had saved his life more than once. There was no doubt his charming youthful appearance had softened Pancrazio Camparella. The Italian Don was certainly unaware of this fact himself, nevertheless he was the one who had performed the sloppy rope work allowing Bobby to get free. He spat the hankie out of his mouth. The tape had not been too bad to remove. Now he had to sneak out of this place unseen and get down to his job.

Some talking was taking place in Stilo and Simon's caravan.
"But Stilo, it's just what we do all the time!"
"No! We don't perform for Italian mobsters all the time," Stilo sighed.
"We did perform for private parties before!"
"And in Kansas you ended up kidnapped for several days by this barbarian and I can't believe you got out of that one unharmed."
"I did, though!" Simon proudly triumphed. "And this time they offer even more money. I'd love to send money to my parents so they can buy presents for Christmas." He paused, slightly tilted his head, and did his best puppy dog eyes trick, one that worked four times out of five on Stilo. "Please?"

"All right," Stilo acquiesced. "I won't call the deal off."
Another reason for not going back on his word was that he didn't know what would happen with these gangsters.

He just wished Simon had been unable to talk during the deal. The boy spent several hours a day gagged, but the one time it'd be helpful that he couldn't speak, Simon had eagerly taken the ball out from his mouth, all fired up with enthusiasm as this man Giovanni discussed the hiring, going into tons of show-off tricks to convince him he was the best. At least Simon had kept still when the hefty fee had been announced.

"We'll have to be extra careful on Saturday. I hope the deal we made about smoking cigars will be respected."
"It will, and there will be lots of people. Giovanni seemed to understand what we told him about you losing it when you smelt cigar smoke. But enough talking, Stilo, we've got work to do! Will we do the trunk tie-up trick we've tried for the last few weeks?"
"Sure, we've got to be ready." Stilo came forward with chains, ropes and various straps, as Simon pulled the black trunk in the middle of the room…

In the Loop, in a backstreet leading to Clark Street, a young man and a boy were getting out from a brick building.
"Thanks for the dry duds, Sean. I'll do just as you told me."
The boy was holding a bag with his damp clothes in it.
"A butt?" He took the cigarette Sean offered him. They stayed under the fire escape as they worked out the last points of their plan.

"You've gotta be inside the club at five o'clock sharp. Pack a piece just in case, and have your usual safety kit. Savvy?"
"Yeah,yeah, Sean, I see." replied Bobby distractedly.
"Following instructions is the only way if you don't want to get chilled a bit too early in life."
"I got away this time again…"
"Maybe. But one day you'll end up with serious lead poisoning. The angel face won't work all the time. At least you made a clean sneak. You haven't been followed. Time to move." Sean stubbed his cigarette out with his heel.
"Don't forget, Bobby, follow the instructions to the letter!"
Sean's voice resounded in the backstreet even as he faded into the crowd on Clark Street.

Bobby kneeled, laced his right shoe back on. The shoes Sean had gotten him were one size or two bigger than his, so he had to make sure he wouldn't lose them.
"Hey Bobby! What are you doing here?" a small voice smirked.
Bobby's eyes were staring daggers as his gaze swung from his shoes to look at someone he wished he hadn't met again. No, not now!

TBC

[Veracity]

Ah! I remember this. I always wondered how the story would turn out.

[kankuro10]

Wow. I didn't know about this story. Amazing. It has already been interesting since chapter 1. Really? 8 chapters? It is exciting.

[Bondwriter]

Thanks, Veracity. Thanks, Kankuro, you are a devoted Simon fan!

[Xtc]

I don't remember this one so It's good to see it here.

[Bondwriter]

Here is more.

4/ Old acquaintances

Eddy the Weasel! Bobby got hit by a flood of unpleasant memories. Having to help Eddy pulling his scams had gotten him in trouble more than once. Some marks did not take it too kindly being relieved of their precious money, and it was easier picking on the street kid than on the suit-wearing grifter. The Weasel was a nickname that suited Eddy perfectly.

Cunning, sneaky, treacherous were all pretty good ways to describe the man. In his thirties, Eddy had been doing all sorts of jobs that proved Honesty wasn't his middle name. From dealing in stolen goods to smuggling alcohol and drugs, which were the least offensive of his activities known to Bobby, this man knew how to walk his way through Chicago's underworld. Being still alive proved his ability to do so.

His looks he also shared with the animal he got his nick from. His long, chinless face, his thin moustache all helped to give him a rodent look. His small eyes too close to each other dove right into Bobby, who was still kneeling and looking up. He spoke in his high-pitched voice with a southern drawl he tried to disguise as a high-class British accent:
"So, me lad, I think I have a job for you."

Bobby shuddered, hoping the job in question was not the one he thought about, since pimping was among the Weasel's criminal ways to earn money.
"No, boy, I'll require your wits and your talents at getting inside places unseen," the Weasel reassured the youth as if he'd read his mind. "Be at the corner of Garfield and Osgood on Saturday at 9:00. A car will come and pick you up. We'll take you out for breakfast."

"What if I can't be there?"
"Don't be silly, you'll be there if your friend Eddy needs your help, won't you, Jim?" The Weasel stressed out his street nickname. He was one of the few people who knew his actual name, and Bobby hated to admit he was afraid of this despicable creature. But he was. "And we wouldn't want you all wrapped in ropes drifting all the way to the East shore of Lake Michigan, would we?"
Now he had to work some way out to get the word of his encounter to Sean. For there was trouble brewing on the North Side.

"No Powderpuff, you've got to jump on the stool, not above!"
Simon enjoyed the couple hours he had to take care of his pets to train them to do tricks. Powderpuff already knew how to collect cards, or how to carry scarves around, and he did them during the show. Simon would have sworn the bunny actually enjoyed the thunderous applause they got on the days the big top was full of enthusiastic people.

He did not use bunnies and doves in the escape act yet, but it would come soon. Powderpuff and Olive the dove were getting better. Olive was really good with keys and chains. She could pick up and bring small shiny metal objects Simon laid a few feet from him, and she would come back perch on his shoulder. She did not overact as her furry counterpart.
Once he was done, Simon went to help Stilo packing the props. He remembered the time Stilo had gone crazy as a visitor had come around smoking a fat Cuban cigar, and Simon had ended up packed in the crate until Maria the rope dancer had come to release him half an hour later. Stilo knew how to truss someone up all right!

But on this evening, before they'd go taking care of the evening chores, they had a fun time. Stilo wanted to put Simon at ease so they would do their number the next day quite relaxed. After all, there was really good money to be made, and Stilo realized that he never had known so much success than since he had Simon as an assistant.

And it made him proud. Brett had felt jealous and had tried to get Simon out of his way to push his clown act. But Stilo was glad to know he was training a boy who would become a famous magician, or maybe even the Houdini of his time!

So it was in a joyful atmosphere the two stooges prepared for the next day. There had to be a matinee and then the club performance in the evening. They had to make sure it would all go smoothly. They polished the cards, coiled the ropes, oiled the hinges of the tricked boxes, and soon they were all set.
" You know, Stilo, there's no business like show business!"
Stilo smiled.

In his office, Pancrazio Ciamparella poured a hefty dose of "tiger milk" in a glass. He had to get some comforting drink after he had heard the bad news. It had to be the O' Connells who had bopped Giuseppe. He had been found in Lincoln Park, in what was actual Swedish territory. But Pancrazio knew the Irish had done it. He'd have to be very cautious with this party for Ornella. And then he would unleash his wrath. And blood would flow…

5/ About to party

This Saturday morning was foggy. Grey, damp and chilly. So much for the windy city! Bobby pulled his collar up as he was getting cold, even after only five minutes waiting on the corner of Garfield and Osgood as the Weasel had ordered him. He felt a shiver down his spine, not only from the cold but he got a pang of fear and anguish. Either he would leave the city tomorrow and head to New York to sail to Dublin, or he would be in the City Morgue before he would wait for some anonymous funeral without any relatives and only a few friends.

A brand new black and grey Ford Tudor sedan pulled over by the curb. The door opened, and the driver nodded he should get in. Bobby sat in the passenger seat, laying his small canvas bag on his lap.
"We're on our way, boy."
These were the only words Bobby heard from the driver for the ten minutes it took to drive up to somewhere on Clark. Bobby knew where it was: they were on Swedish land. It was not surprising, since Eddie the Weasel worked for anybody who paid well, including the Swedes and the driver next to him did not look too much like an Italian. Yes, he was more likely to be called Olofsson than Ferrari. They stopped in front of a tall building. It was a diner on the ground floor, and the driver pointed to it with his chin, indicating Bobby he should go in.

As Bobby stepped inside, he could smell hot coffee and bacon. The gush of warm air felt good. Three men sitting at the table in the back raised their eyes towards him. The older man waved at Bobby inviting him to come.
"You're Jim? Eddie told me about you. He said you had good eyes and ears, and that you were a decent cutpurse. But this is not what we need you for. Let me introduce myself. I'm Harald, but you may just call me Harry. Let's say I'm a businessman. And let's say too I've had some trouble with the competition lately."

The man stopped for a second. Bobby had watched the other two guys from the corner of his eye. Two thugs who were certainly carrying bean-shooters under their coats. He could see the outline of the weapons underneath the linen. The blond boy waited patiently, trying to look casual. After all, he had done so many jobs! Maybe their request would be just some small task to perform, and he would be on his way…

Four hours later, Bobby was getting out from the Auditorium building. He walked down Michigan Avenue, in the nifty outfit he'd been given to wear to enter the hotel. Bobby was not really used to such expensive settings. He did come to the Loop for business reasons, but this downtown part of the city was not his usual treading ground. He looked at the park across the street, but soon the very same sedan that had picked him up and carried him around the whole morning came in between as it stopped next to him.
" How did it go, then?"
" I did what you asked, Harry…"
"Good. Meet Eddie where we told you in one hour. He'll have an envelope for you."

Back in Cicero, the show was about to start. The big top was filling with the week-end audience. Simon and Stilo were getting dressed up leisurely since their act closed the show. As it was winter, Simon donned a less skimpy outfit, which consisted in a blue silk suit Liz had sewn for him. The big top was not that warm. Tonight, in the hotel, he would be able to be in his regular performing suit since he'd be in a heated room. There was the usual chit-chat and pre show jokes in the costume wagon. This was one of the moments Simon really liked; the friendly atmosphere of being a group, mixed with the excitement and the little thrill of stage-fright that he knew would disappear once he would be under the limelight.

Over the last three months the circus had quite recovered, not only financially, but everybody was more cheerful than the previous summer. No one had really voiced it out loud, and even he was unaware of the fact, but Simon had been one of the reasons for this. Besides the cuteness factor of having a kid performer, his artistic talents now really showed. In every place they went, the word of mouth made every show more crowded as Simon quickly became the talk of the town. The memory of Houdini who had passed away six years previous was still in everyone's mind, and yes, some small town journalists had started calling Simon "the new Houdini." Simon did not feel up to this level yet, but it gave him an incentive to practice and become even better.

Everything went really well on this afternoon. There were cheers and hoorays, and Powderpuff was more facetious than ever. This was also a reason for the act's success, since the bunny acted cute all the time. Some little children had even asked for autographs from the rabbit. And Simon was not sure Powder would not be able to sign some one day. After taking care of the fans for ten minutes, Simon and Stilo quickly got ready for the car that would come and take them to the Auditorium Building in Chicago.

"So, Weasel, you can't tell me more about your friends?"
"No, Don Ciamparella, I have no idea what you're taking about…"
"The O'Connells didn't hire you to do their dirty job? There have been rumors on the West Side that you had teamed up with them micks. I think I had warned you back in September that there was only one side that you should work for, and it is mine!"
"I know, Don, I know! And I did, I did!"
"Hey, Giovanni, this man has problem with speaking! Oh look, he also has a problem with his bladder! I'd be tempted to whack you right now, but you might still be useful, if only for having someone to inflict my wrath on if anything goes wrong. It's been a while since I skinned someone alive… Lock him up, Giovanni, we've gotta go, there's a party waiting for us."

The heavy iron door got shut; Eddie the Weasel was in the dark, terrified and quite sure that tomorrow at the same time he would be dead. If Pancrazio Ciamparella actually fell victim of the conspiracy he had taken part in, and none of his goons survived, he'd die later, stuck in this little room in a basement somewhere. The cowardly man did not try to refrain from sobbing and crying pitifully.

TBC

[Bondwriter]

6/ On with the show

There was a real stage in the hotel lounge inside the Auditorium building. The place was rife with gilded ornaments and marble. The gawking Simon felt like a hick from the sticks. The Kansas farm boy had only imagined that fabled palaces were this grand.
Giovanni had shown them around and led them to their room backstage.

After setting up the props, they had gone back into the dressing room and rehearsed their new number a last time. Stilo had recovered some desire to perform at his best over the last few months. And the set-up allowed him to try his new tricks in the proper conditions. Both the magician and his assistant had butterflies in their stomachs as the time of the show was getting nearer.

The curtain opened on Stilo.
“Good evening. Have you ever wondered what secrets the universe still holds for mankind? In our day and age, modern science may let us fly or allow us to listen to people who are thousands of miles away, but some mysteries still wait for being unraveled...”
A small cloud of white smoke popped up on his left, and as it vanished Simon appeared in his blue cape.

The audience looked at them with interest. A little over one hundred people were sitting at tables, consisting in couples dressed in expensive fashionable clothes. There was some laughter as Powderpuff and Olive joined Simon on the stage, the bunny hopping from the left and the dove flying from the right.

It did not really look like the place was full of mobsters. Sure, there were some men at the gates who were not exactly the high-society type, and it seemed they were ready to take guns out from their pockets. Simon knew enough to identify this.

As the number went on, with Stilo giving his speech while playing around with scarves that turned into flowers or danced around, only to be snatched by Olive in mid-air, Simon stepped back. He kept a close look on Giovanni, who was to make sure no cigar smoker was close to the stage.

For the first time the escaping act was mixed in with the magic. Simon and Stilo had thought really hard about making a more entertaining act that would blend in all of their skills. The most dazzling of their tricks was to have Simon thoroughly trussed up inside a box, on top of which Olive and Powderpuff stood, doing some of their antiques as Stilo went to stand on a similar empty box at the other end of the stage.



Then Stilo opened the box he had stood on, only to show that Simon was now in it! Whispers and sighs of awe could be heard in the crowd. He was still as tightly bound, and Stilo closed the box again to use it as a podium.
"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Simon's ethereal body allows him to travel through matter!"
He went on praising the supernatural powers of the ginger escape artist; he stepped down and unlatched the pane. Simon had now disappeared! Stilo snapped his fingers, and Powderpuff released the panel of the box he was on with a touch of his muzzle.

Simon stood up and turned around to face the crowd. He was free, and opened his arms wide to bow at the crowd. There were cheers and laughter. He had really impressed the audience! Looking at the crowd, he noticed Giovanni was gone. And just a few feet away, the smoke from a cigar was slowly rising…

He turned to Stilo. He knew the look in his eyes. He should have run away, but there was a performance at stake. He just hoped he would be able to escape from the bonds Stilo would put on him. He had improved quite a bit in escape artistry. But as Stilo started tying him up, he noticed how roughly the "bad" Stilo wanted him to stay tied up. Ropes, chains, no effort was spared to leave him helpless.

Simon tried to keep up a happy face. He did not know how it would all turn out, but he wanted to get the fee. He was wondering how to get out from this mess, as he knew Stilo would leave him on his own. And even with Powderpuff and Olive helping him out, he would still end up wriggling like a worm in everybody's sight for endless minutes. There were none of the tricks and props involved this time, just his ability to get free.

As Stilo was done and left the stage, with Powderpuff and Olive in tow, all hell broke loose. There was an explosion at the back of the hall. People started screaming. The machine guns started playing their music. Simon jumped behind the curtain on his right, hoping he'd be safe from any bullet as there was a wall in front of him.

There was cursing, running, and the distinct smell of gunpowder hit his nostrils. He lay on his stomach in the shadow of the red curtain and started doing his job. One step at a time, he first assessed the tightness of the bonds. It was some pretty strict tie-up. Twelve to fifteen minutes, he thought. He was so focused on his task he did not realize right away that the mayhem had turned into silence. There was no one left in the hall but Simon.

It did not last long, as soon he heard angry voices coming back inside the hall.
"Damn snitch! You escaped last time, but wait till the Boss comes back! It's been at least three months he didn't crack a skull open. I bet he misses the feeling!"
Simon was horrified by what he heard. He crawled to hide between the curtains that were pulled open.

A thump came from a couple feet away.
" We'll be back very soon; we've got some cleaning to do. But you won't have to wait for too long, don't worry, Bobby! The Big Cheese will be glad to take care of this angel mug of yours!"
Two men walked away, laughing and speaking in Italian. Simon was glad he did not understand the things they said which were certainly very nasty.

He now had his wrists free; it was a matter of seconds before he'd be released completely. But the mysterious Bobby crawled under the curtain and ended up nose to nose with Simon. He was covered in rope, and a large scarf covered his lower face. The faint "Mmmf" he uttered proved he was gagged well. Simon removed the ball gag, now completely free from the chains and ropes. He realized the fear had gotten him to escape really, really fast. Too bad he didn't have a timer to see how well he had performed.

He had a look at the kid whose gag was swiftly removed. He was one or two years older than he was and he did have an angel face. But there was no time in assessing the boy's looks. He had to free him before the thugs returned.

TBC

[kankuro10]

This has been very exciting and interesting, especially Chapter 6. I was very surprised.

I look forward to the new chapters.

[Veracity]

Quite an exciting chapter. You’ve really upped the stakes in this one.

[Bondwriter]

Thanks a ton for commenting in a positive way, Veracity and Kankuro. Glad you guys enjoy the new/ old story!

7/ Ensnared

Simon's nimble fingers quickly picked the knots. Very unprofessional knots, he noticed, but still tight and still difficult to loosen.

" Thank you, we must go before they come back, or we're as good as dead."

" What's the matter? Why would they want to kill us?"

" OK, kid, you seem decent enough, so I'll put you wise. These thugs you performed for are mobsters."

Maybe Simon was naïve, but not THAT naïve. His frown betrayed his feelings. Bobby understood what this meant.

"Oh, so you know it? I'd say it takes a lot of guts then, or maybe a lot of greed to do it. I read you were deemed the new Houdini, and you might be it. Anyway, you must know there are several mobs here in Chicago. And these gangs have been fighting for years for the control of hooch smuggling. And their fights can get right down dirty. Let's say they might be trigger happy at times."

Simon nodded, but he didn't interrupt.

" So I've been in league with the Irish for a while. Doing odd jobs, like watching out a warehouse when a truck was coming in. Or playing courier. You see, I don't look my age, I'm 19… Yeah, I know, people are always surprised. Don't know if I should be really grateful for this to my folks. Creates kind of a situation with dolls. It has its advantages too, but you're a bit young to get it."

Simon was wondering about the patronizing tone.

" But this time, I'm working for the Irish AND the Swedes. OK, you're done!"

Bobby rubbed his wrists as Simon had eventually untied him.

" Let's get outta here. Follow me."

They went backstage, and followed a long hall.

"Let's say the Irish had me plant a bomb, and the Swedes hide weapons for their henchmen. That's more than enough of a reason that the wops…"

He stopped dead in his tracks while uttering this ethnic slur: Simon and Bobby had just gone around the corner, and three feet ahead stood Giovanni and Michele, whom Bobby knew all too well! The two boys were spotted right away.

" Hey! Freeze!"

Of course, neither Bobby nor our favorite escape artist listened to these orders; they spun on their heels and ran away. Simon ran faster, but it actually played against him. He passed a door, only to hear Bobby call him:

"This way! We may get out this way!"

Simon came to a halt, turned around, but the two goons were on his trail already and he ran into Michele, who huffed as Simon's head slammed into his soggy belly.

" One down, one to go!" Giovanni commented as he slammed the door open, chasing Bobby in what appeared to be a stairwell. Michele's greasy paws grabbed Simon's shoulders. Simon struggled, but he soon felt the cold iron of a gun muzzle on his temple.
"The Boss might be a bit soft with youngsters, but I don't mind whacking one or two myself, so you'd better behave!"

Until now, Simon had known no fear. Being tied up was no longer a source of anguish, as he seldom was in a position from which he couldn't escape. And even though he had realized with the gunfight a quarter of an hour ago he was up against some serious people, it was still more or less a game. As Michele's hand lay on his neck, his grasp meaning he was being serious, Simon's mind went into thinking and assessing the situation.


Lay low, wait, he said he wouldn't kill you, so don't move, Simon, don't do anything stupid that will trigger something yet more stupid from this man. As he managed to calm down, now fully aware of his heart beating like crazy but little by little coming back to a more normal pulse; then the blood thumping inside his ears blended with the sound of someone running downstairs.

"Porca miseria! Che cavolo! The little minx slipped out of my fingers. He can't have escaped, but he's hiding somewhere up there. We'd better take care of this one before he slips through our fingers. Then we can search the floor above. This Bobby kid is hiding in one of the rooms. Let us secure the little magician before we hunt down the urchin."

" Come on! Let me go! I was hired by YOU," Simon pointed at Giovanni," I'm not a member of a rival gang!"

Giovanni looked quizzically at Simon.

" Yes, but you saw this kid, and I bet he told you about…"

"No, no, he didn't tell me anything!"

The other man frowned.

" You mean you don't know about…"

"Shut your trap, Michele, if he doesn't know anything, then it's all the better. Go get the trunk and rope on stage, while I start working on our young artist here…"

As one man let him go, the other one started tying Simon's wrists behind his back.

" Don't take it personal, kid, but we can't let you wander around until this whole mess is worked out."

Simon did not reply. He gritted his teeth, annoyed at being called 'kid', and fighting the fear that was threatening to overcome him again. The hemp encircling his wrists was coarse but it would be a piece of cake to get out of it. Sloppy work, no care in doing the knots right, Simon thought things were getting better. He still had to look scared and let them think they had everything under control.

Michele soon was back with the trunk, and ropes he had collected from the stage, plus the red ball and scarves. If these had not been such unsavory characters, the ensuing dialogue would have sounded comical to Simon's ears, as they argued over knots, threading ropes, like two cub scouts willing to get their badge. They ended up stuffing a rag inside his mouth, knotting the mandatory scarf on his neck preventing him from spitting out the ball of cloth, and then they lowered him inside the box, kneeling.
"Seven minutes," Simon thought.

Back on the North Side, in the vacant warehouse's basement, Eddie the Weasel was standing over the corpse of Pancrazio Ciamparella, also known as the Big Cheese. He smirked.

"So, Don," he said stressing the word with contempt, "you didn't see it coming?"

Ten minutes earlier, he thought his life was about to end. The rattling sound of the key inside the lock sounded dreadful and ominous. Pancrazio's over-confidence had brought his demise. He had entered with a pair of pliers in one hand, a gun in the other.

"So Weasel, it seems your friends thought it'd be easy to whack me! I'll come out from this room either knowing the names of the conspirators, or with several body parts taken away from you."

As Eddie had refused to talk, the Big Cheese had walked towards him, an evil grin all over his face. "I'll start off with your fingers!"

Eddie was not fully aware of how he had managed to survive. The following fight had been quite a blur, the adrenalin taking over. He had managed not to be hit by a bullet, and grab the handgun. Then HE had not missed his shot. And he had not missed the goon entering the cell completely panicked over the shots.

Eddie pulled himself together. He had to get to his employers quickly, so they could use Ciamparella's demise to their advantage in gaining some new market shares in Chicago's various trafficking.

TBC

[Bondwriter]

8/ From bad to worse

As Eddie the Weasel sneaked out from the warehouse on the North Side, already crediting himself for his "feat" of murdering two dangerous Italian gangsters, but still holding fast to his tommy gun, things did not look so bright in the Loop for Simon and Bobby. Simon was about to loosen the clumsy knot encircling his wrists after collecting himself and realizing he no longer was afraid of the dark when he felt the crate being picked up and moved.

He remained still, eager to be sure they wouldn't check on his bonds before they left him so he could escape and find Bobby. One thing the thugs were apparently not aware of was that the box was tricked, and that it wouldn't be difficult to get it open from the inside by pushing on the hidden mechanism hidden on the front hinge.

He felt they were taking him upstairs. He could not make anything of the conversation that was going on since his knowledge of Italian amounted to roughly nothing. From the tone of the voices, they were making up some plan, as they sounded like they were wondering about something and had lowered their voices.

Simon hoped that somehow what he had inferred from their behavior so far, and the fact that they waited for orders from this Pancrazio guy, meant he was safe for the time being. Bobby was around, still free, and in the little time he had spent with him, he had no doubt this young man was resourceful enough to rescue him. He wished Stilo could get out of his cigar-induced stupor and ring the alarm bell, but this wasn't something he could really count on.

The crate was laid on the floor cautiously. Obviously Giovanni and Michele were eager not to make noise. The lid got opened, and the dim rays of a weak light bulb lightened up Simon. Giovanni whispered:
"It seems Angel Face has taken a liking to you, so you're gonna be the bait to lure him."
The smirk on the stocky man's face told of his satisfaction at coming up with such a clever plan. Simon felt two pairs of hands grabbing him at the shoulders and he was picked up out from the crate. He held on fast to the knot he had just picked so they wouldn't notice their faulty job and try to fix it.

They had brought him in a small, dimly lit storage room. Ten feet on eight, two pipes running on one wall, a pillar standing on the other side: no furniture indicated the purpose of this room. Some space the architect had not been able to exploit, but that the two thugs were about to use as a temporary jail cell. Giovanni kept on whispering.
"Let's tie him up to the pipes, he's supposed to be quite good at escaping, so we'd better do a nice job."
They stood the escape artist against the pipes. Simon's arms went over the upper pipe, so he had the tube going under his armpits. Ropes soon encircled his upper arms, linking them to the sturdy lead. His ankles were then roped to his upper thighs, so his weight was held by the upper pipe only.

His knees were just above the lower pipe, thoroughly trussed up to it, and this was far from being a comfortable position. And this would be a tougher one to get out from. The goons carefully filled his mouth with a scarf, then they crammed the ball gag on top.
"We want the ragazzo to be unable to warn his friend Bobby, don't we Michele? See you very soon, kid!"
Both men walked out from the room, slamming the door shut; Simon could hear loud voices and laughter that sounded more like bellowing.
"Pancrazio will be proud we caught this Simon, who's in league with the micks, no doubt!"
It was less than five seconds that the doorknob was turned again; Giovanni entered the room, and quietly closed it behind him.

"Shhh!" He signaled to Simon, by bringing his index finger in front of his lips that curled into a devious smirk. He went to hide behind the pillar. Simon understood the not so subtle plan; sadly enough, he knew that the simplest tricks are usually the most effective. It didn't take long before he saw the door revolving around its hinges slowly, giving way to a stealthy Bobby. Simon's inarticulate grunts and head shaking took a second and a half before the street urchin understood Simon told him, with his body language, that he was to flee and this was a trap. But it was one second and a half too late. As Bobby spun round to get out from the room, Giovanni was pointing a gun on Bobby, and Michele's bulky frame blocked the doorway.

"I guess we conned the mark easily, Michele!" Giovanni gloated. "The Big Cheese will be quite happy with us! Do you think he'll skin our little Bobby alive?"
"Not sure. He might be more into breaking every single one of his bones before he cuts him up somewhere where he bleeds painfully and lengthily to death."
Simon was not reassured by these descriptions of torture, but he also knew his hands were free. As bad as the situation looked, he was three minutes away from being free. Now he just had to hope the fiends would leave.

They sat Bobby down against the pillar and tied his hands behind it, stretching his arms painfully. Bobby refrained from groaning in pain, not wanting to give any satisfaction to those two sadistic thugs. Instead, he caught the wink directed at him by Simon, which meant that though the boy looked in pretty dire distress, everything was OK. Bobby had discretely flexed his muscles, so he'd get a little slack around his writs when needed. They then cleave-gagged him, imprisoning a scarf rolled into a ball inside his gob.
"Now our birds are prevented to fly, we might go and see what's going on downstairs. Don't worry, kids, we won't be gone too long, and we'll have some nice company for you once we're back!"
The boys looked down as if they were beat and downtrodden.

TBC

[kankuro10]

Yes. Another exciting chapter. Wow. With each chapter, this adventure has become more interesting.
Wait. Chapter 8? Wow. Reading at the end, "TBC", there is hope for new chapters, right? By the way, I like these scenes of Simon and Bobby in the same place.

[Bondwriter]

Ho there, Kankuro, and all the Simon fans.

Here is the last bit of writing for this story. It isn't totally completed, but this could change as it is very close to the end that I thought of all this time ago.

9/ Aftermath

Down in the hotel lounge that had hosted the reception, the Weasel and the Swedes were quietly inspecting the smallest corner, looking for some of Ciamparella's men who could possibly still be hiding somewhere. Gun in one hand, a knife in the other, they were intent on making a final clean-up job so none of Pancrazio's Captains would remain to take revenge on them, the new masters of the North Side. The body count was good so far, as this evening had seen over twenty of the Italians whacked, including Pancrazio himself, so the competition in the underworld would be less fierce in the years to come.

As soon as they had heard the latch being locked from the outside, both boys started struggling to get out of their bonds. Simon's hands were quickly free, and from there dislodging the ropes around his shoulders was child's play. He then untied the rope lashing his knees together and smoothly slid on the cold tiles. He removed his gag.
"Just a second, Bobby, and I'll come over to free you," he whispered.
Bobby's ego was a bit bruised, for he wasn't used to being rescued by small children. He was proud to slip his hands out of the cruel ropes before Simon actually managed to free his legs completely. He quickly ripped the cleave gag off his mouth and spat the ball of cloth.

"Thanks, kid, I handled the situation. But your reputation is rightfully yours. You're good!"
Simon beamed as he stood up and stretched.
They went to the door. Bobby had a look at the lock.
"We need something to pick the lock. I'm not gonna ask you if you've got something in your pocket!" he joked looking at Simon in his skimpy outfit.
"You should, though," Simon grinned as he retrieved a hair pin from the back of his briefs' waistband, "this is my job after all."
They were now all ears as a distant rumble was suddenly heard.
"Tommy guns," Bobby said gritting his teeth.

[mig137]

Interesting story, I love your stories about Simon. Please write more adventures with Simon.

[kankuro10]

Oh yeah, new chapter. And very interesting. I want to read more scenes of this adventure and others.