Fortunately his children were college age; his two daughters were safely away at university. He kissed his wife at the airport as she readied to board a plane that would see her safely to Sea-Tac airport in Washington State. From there, she would ride the Victoria Clipper, a high speed hydrofoil passenger ferry that would take her directly to Victoria on Vancouver Island, the provincial capitol of British Columbia. Her family's estate was located up-island in the most beautifully scenic region he'd ever imagined could exist. If things got too insane, he would join her there. They'd live a full and secure life of retirement.That done, Jameson exercised a bit of evasion in shaking off his followers to escape from the airport. Later that evening he was asleep in a rented RV, parked in a rest area along I-95 in Virginia. He paid cash for rentals, fuel and meals. It is a lovely thing about cash—it cannot be traced. Another bit of trade-craft obscured his appearance. No description issued. “Where the fuck you think you goin’ whitey bitch?”“Let go of me! Please just let me go.” Kristen pleaded as she struggled in his arms. Her big blue eyes became teary, as her fear grew even deeper. Her body trembled with the fear.“Oh, we’ll let you go alright. Just soon as we done with you. You come into our place; you got to pay the toll.”“You tell her, Nate” she heard someone yell.With his left arm crushing Kristen to him, Nate grabbed her hair with his right hand, pulling her head back.“No! Let go of me! Please MMMM...” she began pleading as Nate’s mouth crushed down on hers muffling her words out of existence. His thick lips covered hers. Spittle exchanged between them as he forced his tongue way back in her mouth. She struggled against him, but he was too big, too strong. Kristen felt herself torn from Nate’s grip.“Quit hogging’ her, man.” The big man who first spoke to her possessed the new white toy. Pushing the other man to the side, “Get in line!” he said setting the pecking.
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