[Smurf]

Great Chapter , i hope Criss's mum will be ok , can't wait to read more

[Veritas]

"Okay, that's a wrap!" Criss said loudly to the cast and crew of the show. "We'll pick it up tomorrow, same time, same place, same channel! Everyone, go home and get some rest."

The weary performers walked off the stage, relieved that the long, grueling rehersal was finally over. No one complained, however--they were all seasoned professionals, accustomed to hours and hours of practice for a single show. Every step had to be perfect, every cue followed at the precise moment it was given, or it would ruin the effect, and that would spell disaster, especially for a show with such spectacular illusions as Criss Angel's.

"Mom? Are you out there?" Criss called out to the empty rows of seats in the theater. "Hey! Can someone turn up the houselights for a minute?''

The lights illuminated the darkened theater. Criss could now see the entire room clearly, but no sign of his mother anywhere. Puzzled, he wondered if she went to the restroom or the green room to wait for him. She usually did that during his rehersals when she was here in Vegas.

He turned and walked off the stage. The houselights dimmed behind him, leaving only darkness in his wake. In the dim light of the wings, he was almost completely blind, making out only faint shadows before him. He took it as a sign that his night vision was improving, a thought that made him smile to himself. He was getting better, he knew he was getting better. All it took was time, and plenty of Vitamin A, of course. Those pills were doing wonders for his eyes; he figured he would have perfect twenty-twenty vision by the premire at this rate.

"Criss!" a female performer in a blue high-cut leotard cried to him, "Criss!"

Criss turned to face her. "What?" he said, concerned. "What's the matter?"

"I found this tacked to a wall by the green room." She handed him a sheet of paper with newspaper letters pasted on it.

Criss read the crudely lettered note, horror and rage boiling up inside him:

If You wAnt To see YOur MOM Again yOu MusT HaND OvER ONE mILlIon dOllarS by MiDNite tonite! COme aLone to UBek St. NO MoneY, NO mommy.

"Oh, dear God!" he cried out. "My mom's been kidnapped!"

He whipped out his cell phone and dialed nine-one-one. "Help me! My mother has been kidnapped! I got a ransom note right here! It says to deliver one million dollars to Ubeck street by midnight. Tell the police to meet me at the Luxor Hotel security office. And hurry!"



Within ten minutes, Criss had called everyone he knew about the kidnapping: his brothers and cousins, who came running before he even hung up; his manager, Dave Baram; the CEO, Felix Rappaport, who in turn alerted all security personnel and ordered the review of the security tape in the theater for the enitre day; and chief of security, Lucas Macaffey, who was hopping mad when he learned that an abduction had taken place on his watch and vowed to find whomever had allowed this to slip by and tear him a new one.

Officer Jim Lettrille had been summoned to the scene with Sergeant Macomb and Officer Hewlett. Lettrille read the note while Macomb and Hewlett questioned everyone who had been in the theater at the time of the kidnapping. "Ubeck Street," he pondered. "That was where the Bomber was at." He slipped the ransom note into a Manila envelope for lab analysis. "It's gotta be him."

"But he can't blow anything up," JD spoke up. "We took all his stuff in that barrel, remember?"

"Yeah, but what is to stop him from finding more supplies?" Lettrille pointed out. "If he has a source before he got busted, he'll find it again."

Sergeant Macomb entered the security office. "We examined the corridor leading to the exit," he said. "All the lights were out, turned off at the main breaker. Cameras couldn't pick up anything. We did get some footprints, though." He handed a woman's purse to Lettrille. "We also found this on the floor backstage."

"That's Mom's purse!" Criss cried out in shock. "She must have gone backstage to meet me after rehersal and--" His throat constricted, choking off his words.

"You mark the spot where you found it?" Letrille wanted to know.

"We did," Sergeant Macomb replied, "and they're going over the whole scene right now."

Lettrille nodded. "Good." He turned to a shaken Criss. "Now, don't worry, we'll get your mother back. He said to meet him on Ubeck Street at midnight with one million dollars. Now, here's what I want you to do..."




After an interminable drive down side streets of shabby, broken down houses and disreputable businesses, the car had stopped at a house with broken windows and one side of it scorched from a past fire.

"Get out!" Dimitra's captor had demanded. "Don't try to run, 'cause if you do--"

Dimitra got out of the car, trembling. Her kidnapper led her by the wrist into the house, where she was led into a bedroom upstairs. "Please," she begged tearfully, "please don't hurt me!"

"I won't hurt you if you just do as you are told," the kidnapper said. "Just sit down, relax, and wait."

She found the strength to look up at her captor. In the dim light of the streetlamp shining through the window, she saw the face of the man who had almost killed her son, who had killed that little girl's parents, and who had terrorized all of Las Vegas. "What do you want from me?" she demanded. "I have done nothing to harm you! Why have you taken me like this?"

Emory leaned forward, smiling evilly. "I don't want anything from you, Mommy Dearest. I just want Crissypoo to cough up a cool million at midnight tonight. That is, if he wants to see his pwecious widdle mommykins again. 'Cause if he doesn't, no more mommykins. Get it?"

Enraged, Dimitra's hand flew up and landed a sharp smack right onto Emory's face. "You coward!" she shrieked. "Release me at once!"

Emory reeled from the blow, surprised that an old lady like her could hit so hard. He glared at her. "You do that again, and Crissypoo will be claiming you at the morgue," he warned her. "Meanwhile, you just sit tight, relax, and wait until midnight. And don't try anything funny, 'cause I'll be watching you."

Emory left the room. Dimitra could hear the metallic click of a lock sliding into place as the door shut behind him. She was trapped. Forcing herself to remain calm, she looked around her for any means of escape, anything she could use to free herself from this madman. She looked out the windows for any passersby whom she could flag down for help, but the street was deserted. She could not climb out, as she was on the second floor. There had to be a way, there just had to be.

She wished she could be Christopher for just five minutes. He would have known how to get out of here. He would have escaped without that evil man knowing about it. How would he do it? she wondered.

Dear Lord, she prayed, give me the strength and skill of my son Christopher, so that I may escape this prison and the madman who has locked me in here. Guide my family safely to me, to rescue me. Help me, dear Lord, in my time of trouble. Amen.

[RACHEL02189]

Enraged, Dimitra's hand flew up and landed a sharp smack right onto Emory's face. "You coward!" she shrieked. "Release me at once!"


I would of done the same thing.

[Smurf]

Originally Posted by RACHEL02189

Enraged, Dimitra's hand flew up and landed a sharp smack right onto Emory's face. "You coward!" she shrieked. "Release me at once!"


I would of done the same thing.

Me too . Great chapter , i hope police and Criss will get to Dimitra , and stop the bomber , can't wait to read more

[Veritas]

It had been an enjoyable evening for Carey, with a wonderful five-star meal at one of the Luxor's finest restaraunts, with some top-notch entertainment to go along with it. And it was only Monday! It was good to forget the book for a while and just relax. Maybe she could take in a show later. Yes, that would be a good idea. But the show schedule was in her room, so she'd have to go all the way back up there to get it.

She paid the bill, tipped the waiter, and made her way back to her suite. Midway to the elevator banks she saw a commotion at the MindFreak production office, and noticed Officer Lettrille with two other policemen present. Criss was in a state of hysteria, quite unusual for him, she thought. She cracked the door open a bit to listen in, knowing it was rude, but if Officer Lettrille was there, she was sure it had to do with the Bomber.

Lettrile had a black briefcase on one of the desks in front of him. "Okay," he said to Criss. "You take the briefcase to Ubeck Street as instructed. Go up to the house and tell Emory you're there and go in. Demand that he show you your mother first to see if she is all right. Meanwhile, me and my men will surround the house. If he tries to get away, we nail him, understood?"

"Got it," Criss nodded.

"Now I know how much you want to punch this guy's lights out for kidnapping your mother--"

Kidnapping your mother? Carey was stunned. Emory kidnapped Criss' mother and is holding her for ransom? It was inconceivable! How could he kidnap her from this hotel when there were cameras scanning every inch of space? Oh, God! The poor woman! she thought.

"--but if you turn on him, not only you but your mother could get hurt. This guy might be armed, remember that. Once the money's in his hands, we got him. There is a tracking device in the case. We turn it on, we can follow him wherever he goes."

Criss was silent, absorbing everything Lettrille said to him. He would have given anything and everything he owned to have his beloved mother back to him, safe and sound. One million dollars--what was that compared to the woman who gave him life, love, inspiration and support? Was she safe? At least, still alive? He hoped so. He prayed so, because if any harm came to her, God help that (bleeper) Emory.



Carey fled to her room, all previous plans for the evening forgotten. Dimitra kidnapped! She still could not believe it! What should she do? What could she do? She did not want to interfere with the investigation or the negotiaion for her release--that would do more harm than good. She remembered where Ubeck Street was, not too far from that pizza restaruarnt where the pipe bomb was found in her car. Should she go there? Or should she just stay put until the whole thing blew over?

She shook with sobs, pulling her short Claroled hair in frustration. Her eyes burned, forcing her to remove her bifocals to wipe her eyes. Finally, unable to stand it no longer, she called for the valet to fetch her car. She was going to Ubeck Street to see this thing through. If questioned, she could plausibly say that she was going to see Raul Alvarez regarding her book. Otherwise, she would lay low. Pulling on her London Fog raincoat and grabbing her purse, she headed out the door. She got him before, she thought, she'd get him again.



The hours seemed to crawl on hands and knees. It was now eleven PM, one hour before Criss' rendezvous with the Bomber. Still unable to see in the dark, Criss let Lettrille drive him in his black Lambroghini. He clutched the briefcase containing one million dollars in marked bills and the small tracking device wired into it. He had to teach Lettrille how to drive such a sophisticated automobile, but he was a quick study. Officer Lettrile had dealt with cases of theft of such luxury vehicles in the past; it came with the territory, he told Criss.

Lettrille pulled up to 4808 Ubeck, shabbier than ever with graffitti spray painted all over it by angry Loyals venting their wrath upon the criminal who almost killed their idol. He switched off the headlights; only a single streetlamp illuminated the scene. "Here we are," he said, turning off the engine. "You know what to do?"

"I do," Criss said.

"Okay, I'll hide here, you go on ahead. Can you see okay?"

"I'm good."

"Okay, let's roll."

Criss got out of the passenger side door, carrying the briefcase. The house was dark inside. He'd be totally blind if he went inside, he realized. He cursed himself for not bringing a flashlight. It would have given him an advantage if he saw the Bomber.

Use your other senses, he told himself. Use your ears and fingers instead of your eyes. Remember when you were in the hospital? You followed sound and "saw" with your fingertips. Don't let yourself get disoriented. You can do this.

Criss pounded on the front door crudely scrawled with his circle-A trademark. "Emory?" he shouted. "I know you're in there!"

He tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. He entered the darkened house, leaving the door open to let in what little light the streetlamp outside could give. "Emory?" he shouted. "Mom? Are you all right? Somebody answer me!"

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving him in total darkness. Criss forced himself to remain still, keeping his ears tuned to any sound, sending out mental feelers for any presence in the room.

"Hello, Crissypoo," a voice purred menacingly behind him.

Criss did not move, but braced himself for any sudden attack.

"I see you came on time," Emory's voice said, approaching him. "You got the money?"

"Yeah, I got it," Criss replied, concealing his rage. "Where is my mother? Where is she?"

"First the money, honey, then we get Mommy."

"I want to know if she's all right. If you hurt her, so help me, God--"

"Relax! She's fine. Just drop the cash and go get her. But..." He was in front of him now. "But, you have only two minutes to rescue her. If you and Mommykins don't make it out of the house in time, you'll both be blown to kingdom come. So, you'd better hurry."

Criss lunged at Emory, but only grabbed empty space as his foe deftly evaded his futile attack. "Ah, ah, ah!" Emory admonished in a patronizing tone. "Naughty, naughty!"

"(Bleep) you, (bleep)hole!" Criss spat angrily. "I'll kill you even if I can't see a thing in this (bleeping) house!"

"You'll just be wasting valuable time," Emory told him. "You only have two minutes before this house and everyone in it goes boom."

Criss heard Emory pick up the briefcase. "Remember, only two minutes. Starting now."

Emory dashed out the back door, laughing in triumph. Criss burned in rage and humiliation, but there was no time for either. He had to rescue his mother before it was too late.

He groped around for a wall. "Mom?" he shouted. "Mom? Can you hear me? Answer me!"



Upstairs, Dimitra sat in her tiny bedroom prison. She saw lights stream brightly through the window. She got up to look out and saw what looked like Criss' car in the driveway. Her heart leaped. Her prayer had been answered! He had come to rescue her! God had not forsaken her!

She watched as Criss got out of the car and walked up to the door. She could hear him enter the house, then the front door slammed. There were shouts, then silence. Then she heard him calling out to her. The house had no lights--Criss would not be able to see in the dark, she realized. She had to let him know she was here. She crossed over to the bedroom door.

"Christopher!" she shouted, hammering on the door. "I'm up here! Please help me!"

"Mom?" Criss shouted. "Where are you?"

"I'm up here in this bedroom! I'm locked in!"

She's upstairs! "Keep pounding, Ma!" he screamed. "Keep pounding so I can find you!"

The pounding on the bedroom door went on. Criss stumbled toward the sound, groping along a wall until he came to the staircase. Scrambling up the stairs, he plowed headlong into a door at the end of a short hallway. "Mom!" he screamed. "You in there?"

"Yes!" he heard her answer from the other side. "I'm in here!"

Criss fumbled for the doorknob. He turned it, but the door would not open. He ran his fingers across the doorjamb and discovered a hook and eye latch secured with a padlock. Criss kicked the door with all his fury. He heard splintering wood, but the door remained firm. Criss knew he had only a minute to get her out before the house blew up. "Mom!" he shouted. "Get back!"

He walked back to the edge of the stairs, letting his fingers guide him, then sprinted towards the door, plowing into it like a football linesman playing offense. The old wooden door exploded on impact. Criss tumbled to the floor, his shoulder aching.

"Christopher!" Dimitra shrieked. "Darling! Are you all right?"

She knelt beside him. Criss came to his senses and looked up.

"Ma?" He clutched her tightly. "Oh, God! Mama, thank God you're all right!" he sobbed with relief.

Dimitra kissed her son over and over again. "Thank You, Lord!" she breathed. "Thank You for sending my son to me!"

Suddenly, Criss bolted upright. "We gotta get out of here!" he told his mother frantically. "We gotta get out of here now!"

He siezed her arm and dragged her out of the bedroom and to the stairs, ignoring his night blindness. They stumbled down the stairs in their haste. Criss was almost to the foyer when he heard a thudding sound and a cry of pain.

"Mom?" he cried out. "Mom? Are you all right?"

"Christopher!" his mother called to him. "I hurt my foot!"

Dear God! Criss reached behind himself, groping for his mother's hand. "Mom! Where are you?"

He felt her soft fingertips brush against his hand. He grabbed her hand, picked her up by her arm and carried her to the door. Dimitra opened it and mother and son limped out of the house, guided by the streetlamp, toward the Lambo.

"Lettrille!" Criss shouted. "We gotta move! This house is going to blow up any second now!"

He yanked open the driver's side door. Lettrille was not there. Criss and his mother climbed into the Lambo for safety. From habit, Criss found himself in the driver's seat. Dimitra sat beside him, nursing the large, golfball-sized lump on her right ankle. It was too dark for him to drive, and his mother did not know anything about the Lambo. Fearing an explosion, he pulled his mother's head down onto the seat. "Get down!" he shouted.

They ducked just under the dash, waiting for the worst. He didn't know just how much protection the Lambo would give them, but it was the best shelter they had under the circumstances.

"Mom, I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she whispered back.

"I love you more," he quavered



Lettrille, in the meantime, was in a squad car on stakeout, monitoring the tracking device in the ransom briefcase. The monitor began to beep, signalling its activation. Lettrille read the map on the tiny screen.

"He's heading north," he said over the radio. "All units standby."

"Standing by," the radio acknowledged.

Lettrille followed the signal on the tracking monitor. It wouldn't be long now.



Carey drove south toward Ubeck Street. No police cruisers as far as she could see. Maybe they caught him already, she thought hopefully.

She was almost to Raul's house when she saw someone who looked like Emory running the other way towards her. Upon closer inspection, she realized that it was Emory running up the street, and he was carrying a black briefcase.

Enraged, she turned her car sharply to the left, cutting him off. Emory plowed straight into the front passenger side, sending him sprawling to the concrete. Carey got out of the car and whipped around to his side. She grabbed him by the shirt front and glared into his shocked face.

"Hello," she sneered. "Remember me?"

[Smurf]

Great Chapter , it is getting really exciting , can't wait to read more

[RACHEL02189]

ALL RIGHT CAREY!!!! clapping hands

[Veritas]

Emory struggled to get away from Carey, but she pushed him down on the concrete and sat on him; it was the only way she could subdue him. She glared at him angrily, her face directly into his. "What have you done to Dimitra?" she demanded. "If you did anything, anything at all to that sweet old woman, so help me I'll kill you right here and now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emory gasped underneath Carey's weight.

"Oh, like hell you don't!" she spat. "I heard everything at the production office! You wanted one million dollars in exchange for her! On top of all the murder and mayhem you caused, you had to go and kidnap a defenseless old woman! Man, even for you this is a new low!"

"I didn't do nothin'," he growled at her.

"Then why are you running down the street with that briefcase?" Carey countered. "What's in it? Money? Another pipe bomb? Either way, you're screwed, buddy! Once the police get here, you're history!"

"Yeah?" Emory sneered. "How are you going to get hold of them? Once you get up to call them, I'm gone! And you will be too."

"I'm not going anywhere, bub!"

"Oh, yes, you are! I got about five pounds of explosives strapped to my body! All I have to do is push the button, and they'll be nothing left of either of us! If you want to see tomorrow, you'll let me go."

Carey could sense the cylindrical shapes underneath Emory's clothing and she realized he was not bluffing. In her bewilderment, her eyes fell on the briefcase lying in the street beside them.

The briefcase! Carey recalled what Officer Lettrille said about a tracking device planted inside it. It had to be activated by now. If she could just stall for time until the police got there...

"You're lying!" she said, feigning anger.

"You wanna see for yourself?" Emory challenged her. "Just open my jacket up and look."

"I'm not that kind of girl," she retorted sarcastically.

"I'm not asking for a feel, just a peek at what I got" Emory told her. "Or I could just press the little button I got in my pocket and we both get blown, literally."

"You're crude, Emory."

"Hey, you started it."

"Why are you doing this, anyway?" she demanded. "Why did you have to go and bring so much misery on so many innocent people? Why did you have to try and kill Criss Angel? And why did you try to kill me?"

"Oh, for chrissakes!" Emory groaned.

"I want an answer, Emory!"

"You want an answer? Here's your answer!" With that, he rolled over, pinning Carey underneath him. Carey struggled to free herself, but Emory had a death grip on her wrists. "You (bleeper)!" Carey screamed in his face.

"Just relax, sweetie," he purred. "You want to know why I did it, don't you? I did it because Criss stole my career from me. I should have been the one with all the fame and fortune! I'm the one who should have his name up in lights! It should have been me! Not Criss (bleeping) Angel, who everyone knows is a big fraud! I am ten times the magician he is!"

Carey laughed derisivly. "You? Better than Criss Angel? Ha! That's the best one I've heard in a long time! Criss has more talent in his pinky finger than you'll ever have in a lifetime!"

Emory raised his hand to strike her. Carey saw her chance and grabbed his wrist, twisting it as hard as she could. As Emory grimaced in pain, she thrust her knee into his groin, stunning him long enough to free herself. Rising to her knees, her arthritis forgotten, she twisted his arm behind his back. Emory crouched in front of her, helpless.

Looking back later, Carey was surprised at her abilty to subdue her attacker, given her age and lack of any self-defense training, but for the moment her outrage dominated all thought. "Make any move," she hissed in his ear, "and I'll break your arm."

Emory struggled to free himself, while Carey struggled to keep him in her custody. The flashing lights of a police cruiser quickly drew their attention. Emory struggled harder. Carey straddled him again, pinning him under her weight.

"Okay, Ms. Conner," she heard a familiar voice speak to her. "You can let him go now."

"Be careful!" she shrieked. "He's got explosives strapped onto him!"

Officer Lettrille clicked on the police radio. "Seven-one-five here. We have a potential bomb threat here! Request backup!"

The radio crackled an incoherant reply, and Lettrille stepped forward to Emory, handcuffs at the ready. With more force than Carey could ever conjure up in her lifetime, Lettrille siezed Emory and wrenched his arms behind his back, the handcuffs on his wrists with a satisfying click.

Carey stumbled to her car, trembling from the exertion. She wanted to cry. She felt as though she would faint. I'm not cut out for police work, she thought.



Three minutes had gone by, with no explosion or anything. Criss and his mother, Dimitra, sat up in the Lambo, bewildered yet relieved. "Hey," Criss said with a smile, "we're okay!"

Mother and son embraced joyfully. They were free and still alive. Everything was going to be okay now, they thought. The kidnapping ordeal was over.

Dimitra held her son's face in her soft hands. "Let's go home," she whispered.

Criss turned to start the car, but discovered one problem: he was still night blind. He could not drive in the dark like this, and his mother didn't know how to drive any of his imported cars, and after her traumatic kidnapping and sprained ankle, she was in no condition to drive anything. They would either have to wait for the police to arrive or until the morning light.

As Criss pondered this dilemma, he heard a tapping on the side window. He felt for the switch and pressed it. The black tinted window slid down to reveal a young man with spiky hair and a chrome ring in one nostril, smiling at the two figures in the car. "Hey, Criss!" he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, man," Criss greeted him back. "We're trying to get home, but I can't see in the dark. Care to help?"

"Hey, no prob!" He held out his hand to Criss. "By the way, name's Brent diOrio."

Criss extended his hand and shook it. "Brent? Glad to meet you. What're you doing out here, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm on neighborhood watch tonight," Brent explained. "We all got together when the Bomber escaped from jail, and we comb the neighborhood every night."

"Cool." Suddenly, Criss had an idea. "Say, Brent, you ever drive a Lamborghini before?"

Brent shook his head. "No, can't say that I have." he laughed.

"Well, you wanna get behind the wheel of this one and take us back to the Luxor?"

Brent was elated. The closest he ever came to handling any high-end European import was stocking the latest issues of Car and Driver in the auto parts store where he worked. "Does a chicken have a pecker?" he replied excitedly. "Of course I'll drive!"

"Great, dude," Criss said. "I totally owe you one."

[RACHEL02189]

Way to go carey!!!

[Smurf]

great chapter , way to Carey , Brent and Criss , can't wait to read more