Fugitive
Narrator: Florian
The abandoned shack lay hidden among a small cluster of trees. My dad had sent me here this morning to monitor the radio frequencies ahead of a mission in the area. I had no idea what the mission involved, but something was clearly going on. The airwaves crackled with tense voices.
After a while, Dad arrived with Gerard, his right-hand man on the force. I poured three cups of coffee and set them down on the grimy table.
“Good thing you sent me ahead,” I said. “The Holy Boys are very active around here. Looks like they’re searching for someone.”
“Maybe the same bastard we’re after,” Gerard offered.
My dad shook his head. “Doubt it. He’s the boss’s favorite. Why would he suddenly be on the run from them?”
I frowned. “Who are we even talking about? You dragged me out here with no explanation.”
He handed me his tablet. I saw the picture and froze. “Oh fuck…”
“What?” he snapped.
“I know him,” I said. My mouth had gone dry.
“How?”
“Zürich. Last year.”
“Start talking.”
“We started chatting at the station. He seemed... nice. We ended up travelling together.”
My father stared at me. “You mean you invited him into your first-class compartment?”
“Yes,” I muttered.
“Someone you didn’t know at all.”
“That’s not illegal,” I said defensively.
“You didn’t notice anything off about him?”
I looked away. “No.”
He sighed deeply. “You’re not the only one who’s fallen for his charm. But I expected better from you, Florian.”
His words hit harder than I cared to admit. My face burned.
“I don’t even want to think about what sort of City secrets he might’ve wrung out of you.”
I jumped to my feet. “Nothing! You think I’m that dumb? We never talked about any of that. We had... other things on our minds.”
My father snorted. “You spent the night with one of the region’s most wanted criminals.”
“Seriously?”
“Tell him, Gerard.”
While my father walked off, Gerard started explaining. “Although Toby is only nineteen years old, he has been in the criminal business for five years now. It started when he ran away from home at the age of fourteen. Since then he has considerably improved his skills as a hacker and con artist. Charming, clever - and effective. He seduced powerful, wealthy patricians, then cleaned them out.”
I swallowed. “In Zürich, he said he had done some banking there... so that was probably stolen money.”
“Sounds about right,” Gerard said. “Maybe we can still recover some of it.”
“When did he come on our radar?”
“Eight months ago. We almost had him, but he vanished - joined the Holy Boys gang.”
My heart sank. “Those murderers?”
My father turned. “And guess who’s been giving them their best intel? The City Bank job. The diamond heist. All Toby.”
I couldn’t believe it. The boy who had slept beside me...
A heavy silence fell. I felt torn - between my duty, my dad, and what I felt for Toby... whatever that was.
Gerard broke the silence. “Maybe we should go. If the Holy Boys really are nearby…”
I took a deep breath. “Any idea where he is?”
Gerard laid his device on the table. “One of our agents managed to slip a tracker into the lining of his backpack yesterday. As long as he hasn’t found it, we can track his every move.”
We leaned over the screen as Gerard brought up the signal.
“There are no Holy Boys in that area,” I said. “We can get him.”
My father nodded. “You stay here and keep monitoring the radio. Gerard and I will go in.”
“But we’ve got a better chance if we go as a team,” I argued.
“Florian, given your history with him, that’s not a good idea.”
“But…”
“You have your orders,” he said curtly.
Moments later, they were gone. I was left alone, staring at the screen Dad had handed me. Toby’s image smiled back at me with that disarming grin.
Impossible. This couldn’t be about Toby.
What the hell happened? A mistake? The wrong person?
Why hadn’t I stopped him that day, when he boarded that tram?
I ran my finger across the screen and began to read.
****
Narrator: Julian (Florians dad)
I couldn’t avoid stepping on the odd twig as I made my way through the thickening brush. After several long minutes, I reached a clearing. In the middle of the grass lay a backpack and a small radio. A bit further off were some sacks of apples and pears beside a cluster of fruit trees.
“Well done,” came a young voice from behind me. “Your radio chatter had me thinking you were still miles off. But here you are.”
I turned slowly. A young man was standing there, holding a pistol levelled at me. He’d calmly let me approach, only revealing himself once he was sure I was alone.
He stepped forward with a hint of menace. “I don’t know you,” he said. “Who the hell are you?”
“Police,” I replied evenly. “I’m here to arrest you.”
“Police?” Toby let out a dry laugh. “This far south? Just for me? You expect me to swallow that?”
“Who do you think I am, then?”
“I think Lars and Frank sent another hitman.”
So Gerard had been right. His time with the Holy Boys was over.
I held his gaze. “I don’t work for them. But they’re after you too. Believe me, your best shot is coming back to the City with us.”
“If you’re really a copper, you’ll have a badge to prove it.”
“Naturally. Inside jacket pocket. Want to see it?”
“Careful. No sudden moves. Take it out slow and toss it over.”
I did as told. He caught it and studied it closely.
“Looks legit,” he muttered.
“It is,” I said. Then I reached for my cuffs. “Alright. Put the gun down, come here, and give me your hands.”
Instead, he stepped back. “You seem to be forgetting something, officer. I’ve got the gun. You don’t.” But now the barrel was angled toward the ground, not to me.
“You really think I came out here alone? Look up - left side.”
He turned - and spotted Gerard perched on the hill, gun raised.
Toby looked back at me, calculating. “You don’t shoot unarmed people, right?”
“Correct. So the smart move right now is to gently lower that weapon.”
To my relief, he did. He placed the gun on the ground, raised his hands, and stepped back.
“I’m unarmed now,” he said.
“Good.” I approached with the cuffs ready. “Now then…”
Suddenly, he bolted.
Gerard and I gave chase. The kid could run - young and fit, he tore across the clearing toward our vehicle. For a moment I worried he’d reach it and vanish right under our noses. But then he veered right and sprinted uphill.
I pushed harder. Going uphill, my police training paid off. He was struggling more with the incline than I was. He glanced back - saw how close I was. In desperation, he hoisted himself into a large tree.
I caught the back of his jeans, trying to haul him down. He kicked me hard in the chest. I lost my grip, stumbled over a root, and hit the ground flat on my back.
Toby looked down at me, startled. “Oh shit,” he muttered.
That moment of hesitation was all Gerard needed. He reached the kid, yanked him out of the tree, and after a brief scuffle, pinned him to the ground in a tight hold.
I got to my feet, rubbing my arm.
“You alright, Julian?” Gerard called.
“I’ll survive,” I grunted. “But that little bastard’s going to pay for this.”
“Go on,” Gerard said, pushing the brat down a little more firmly.
I dropped to my knees beside him and began to undo the kid’s jeans. He squirmed, but Gerard held him fast. I tugged the jeans down over his thighs. His tight, skimpy briefs slid down with them.
He let out a furious yell. “What the hell are you doing, you pervert? Getting off on this?”
Without replying, I unbuckled my belt. Slowly, I folded the leather double. I looked down at the kid’s bare backside. With my left arm, I shoved his shirt a little higher.
This was the criminal who’d made my son lose his head - and he was going to feel it.
Since the introduction of corporal punishment, we’d had regular training at the department. We practiced using belts, tawses and paddles, learned how to wield them safely, and studied the various effects they produced.
I moved into position for a clean strike across the widest area. The best angle needed a little distance. Once in place, I dropped to one knee and raised the belt.
Had to stay professional. This wasn’t the time to let emotion take over. I’d trained for this. Just a detainee whose resistance needed to be broken. Focus.
The belt cracked through the air and landed squarely across both cheeks. A bright red stripe appeared instantly. The brat struggled in vain. Gerard, like me, had years of physical training and held him down with ease.
The leather landed again. A second stripe flared up, right beside the first - just as intended. The third landed directly on top of the same spot.
“Ow! Fuck!”
I picked up the pace. Leather hissed. Skin flared red. He screamed - in pain, and impotent rage.
“Assholes! Fucking perverts!”
I ignored him. The belt snapped across the lower part of his backside, then the center, then higher up. I laid one stroke diagonally over the rest. His ass turned a deep red, with hints of purple already showing through.
I only stopped when Gerard raised his hand. I exhaled. “That’ll do - for now.”
Groaning, Toby got to his feet, face twisted in pain, as he pulled up his jeans and fastened the buttons. He looked at me with raw resentment, one hand pressed protectively to his ass.
He needed to feel this. But even so, something didn’t sit right. My hand lingered on my belt buckle. I’d disciplined detainees before - but this felt different. Why? Because he was young? Because, despite his insolence, he didn’t act like a hardened criminal?
No. Don’t go there.
I pushed the thought aside and took out the cuffs. “Get over here. Turn around. Hands behind your back.”
Like a lamb, he let me cuff him. A good whipping works wonders to break resistance.
The three of us headed back down the hill, Toby walking in front of us, his hands shackled behind him.
****
Narrator: Florian
My heart was pounding. This couldn’t be. This couldn’t be Toby.
But it was.
My eyes locked onto his as Gerard opened the rear door and hauled the prisoner from the vehicle. Toby’s eyes widened when he saw me, like he’d forgotten how to breathe for a moment.
My mouth was dry. “Hello, Toby,” I said, flatter than I’d meant.
He said nothing. Just that look - surprise, maybe panic.
“Inside,” Gerard ordered, giving him a shove.
I stood still, trying to keep my head clear. This wasn’t the time to get lost in memories of warm sheets and whispered words.
I was an officer. He was a detainee.
Nothing more.
And right now, the Holy Boys demanded our full attention.
“We need to go,” I said, turning to my father. “They’re headed this way. They’ll be here within the hour.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
I felt irritation rise. “Someone gave out a spanking loud enough for a scout to overhear.”
He ignored the jab and followed Gerard inside. I trailed after them, laying the map out on the table and pointing to the incoming movements.
“They’re closing in from the west, south, and east. Our only shot is north - back to the City.”
“They’ll expect that,” my father replied. He paused, thinking. “We’ll split up. Gerard and I go north and draw their attention. With luck, they’ll follow.”
Gerard looked skeptical. “And that’s a good plan?”
“Our car’s faster than theirs. We just need to avoid getting boxed in.”
He glanced at Toby, who stood quietly in the corner, hands still cuffed behind his back.
“They want him more than they want us. We’re just collateral.” He stepped toward Toby. “Why are they after you, son? What are you so afraid of?”
Toby shrugged. “We had a difference of opinion.”
“That’s all you’re giving us? Toby, you’re in deep. You need all the help you can get.”
“And you’re going to help me? With another whipping?”
My father’s jaw tightened. “We’ll talk about that later.” He turned back to us. “Either way, we can’t let the Holy Boys get him. Gerard and I will go north now. Florian, wait fifteen minutes, then take him east - towards Cologne. It’s further, but safer.”
“That’s a ridiculous plan,” I said, shaking my head. “They’ll never fall for it.”
My father gave me a hard look. “Florian, no debate. You said yourself - they’re coming. We move now.”
A lump rose in my throat. “Why do you suddenly want me to escort him? I thought you didn’t trust me with him.”
He pulled me outside. The cold hit me like a slap.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. You didn’t deserve that. Of course I trust you.”
I snorted. “You think he’s manipulating me.”
His expression softened. “I know you’re professional enough to handle this. And I know you’ll do it better than anyone.”
My pulse quickened. I wanted to protest. But what could I say? That I was afraid? Not of Toby, but of myself. Of what I felt when he was too close.
“I’m an officer,” I muttered. “Just like you.”
He nodded. “I know.”
Still, it felt like a test. And I wasn’t sure I’d pass.
He looked at me one last time, with something that resembled pride. Then he turned and walked back inside.
I was left alone with my thoughts.
And with Toby.
