Stagehand: S1 Episode 7

Andre Savin and Lincoln Palmer had met on several occasions and had the type of relationship you’d expect between two men of their standings on the billionaire scale. Contemptuous but also understanding. They were both driven by the same desire—access to the things others can’t have.

I’ve got a complicated history with God, but I’ve got to admit the fact that these two billionaires had two separate plots to kidnap Carl Timmons completely unbeknownst to each other is some cosmic shit. But we’ve got no time for the big questions. Andre Savin was sitting passenger side on a golf cart making its way across his private course to one of the guesthouses scattered around his estate. Keith and I were watching and listening from Frenchy feed as he drove Andre Savin to the building where Carl Timmons was being held.

– – –

We’d been doing direction finding on Pablo Escobar’s phone while his cartel wreaked havoc on the country. At this point, Escobar was raking in a billion dollars a week and we’d been doing surveillance on his various properties throughout the city. We’d been set to hit one of them even though we knew from his transmissions that Escobar wasn’t inside. There wasn’t any counter surveillance that we could see, but you never know what passerby might be on the payroll. 

We pulled up, took positions, and prepared for our hit. 

– – – 

He wanted to own a man on the inside and Carl Timmons presented himself as the perfect guy for the job. 

Frenchy pulled up to a guesthouse where two men that looked capable of eating children stood guard. One of them opened the door for Savin. Savin took a seat across from a shell- shocked Carl Timmons. Frenchy stood in the corner. Savin had three other bodies from his security detail in the room. If things went south, I’d give Frenchy a 50/50 chance of getting out alive. He loves this shit.

Savin spoke perfect English with a thick accent: “You are welcome, by the way.”

Carl Timmons cleared his throat, “Excuse me?”

“I extracted you from your predicament. Those two boys in San Jose. They put the pig mask on your face…very vulgar. Unhinged, yes? This is why I say, ‘You are welcome.’”

Carl kept it civilized. “Right. Well this is better lodgings but, um, I’m still being held against my will. Is that right?”

“Yes. This is true. But I hope we can change that, Mr. Timmons. See, I want you to return to your home. I want you to see your family again and drink with your friends and all those things.” As he spoke, he laid photos of Carl’s aunt on the table.

“Most importantly, I want you to return to your job. And when you do, I want you to work for me.”

Finally, we learned Savin’s motives for hijacking Palmer’s kidnapping and bringing Carl to his estate. He proposed that when they release Carl and put him on a first class flight back to the U.S., he uses his position at Illuminating Solutions to help them out when they’re in need of a small favor here or there. Savin didn’t want anything specific or immediate—he’s a shrewd capitalist playing the long game. He wanted to own a man on the inside and Carl Timmons presented himself as the perfect guy for the job.

“You’d be compensated for the risk, of course, Mr. Timmons.”

– – –

Two of Escobar’s men hit us from the outside. Keith put them down quick. Inside, the guards scrambled to get their shit together. Escobar’s guys did their best, but they’re hired guns with zero training. We were trained for this. We were machines and they were merely mortal. Dead the day they were hired by Pablo Escobar. 

After the gunfire subsided and the guards were no longer, we stood in the silence that lingered. We were surrounded by cash. The room was filled with piles of it as tall as any of us. 

– – – 

You have twenty-four hours to make a decision. 

Carl Timmons sat in silence. Too scared or shocked to get the words out. Savin leaned back in his chair as he urged Carl to make the right choice.

“You’ve been missing six days now Carl. There’s no press. No word from the FBI. And you know what this means, yes? It means your company is keeping it under the wraps. They’re in damage control while you’re stripped and humiliated.” Savin had left a dead end for any further investigation in San Jose. As far as anyone was concerned, it was a double homicide. Nobody knew or could know that Carl Timmons was now in Russia. This should be an easy decision.

“Simple.” Savin stood up. “You have twenty-four hours to make a decision.”

Timmons mustered some words, “And if I don’t, um…don’t agree to be your informant?’’

“Then we’ll send you back to San Jose, Mr. Timmons. Where you’ll die an unknown hero for a company that didn’t give any shits about you… And if you lie and return without fulfilling your end of the deal, you will live your life in fear of the same fate.”

– – –

We were surrounded by eighty million dollars in cold hard cash. Nobody would know if we took a little. We could have easily pocketed more than we’d hope to make in a lifetime, but in that moment it didn’t even occur to us. At twenty-three years old, it wasn’t about the money or what the money could provide. We got off on the kudos of presenting that money—the glory of delivering it to the good guys and the knowledge that we gotten the better of Pablo Escobar. 

– – – 

Citizens don’t get the fear trained out of them. 

I had no doubt that Carl Timmons would do whatever he needed to do to stay alive. Citizens don’t get the fear trained out of them. If he did return, he’d answer Savin’s calls and provide the small favors.

He didn’t know it yet—but no matter how this might end, he’d never be put in that position.