The Qadesh Club

by David Lashmar

  Thanos watched in disbelieving horror. His worst nightmare was unfolding right before his eyes. The only thing standing between him and certain death was a young, inexperienced and arrogant thug. How could I have been so stupid to think that a young, wide-eyed boy like Grimshawe could ever hope to defeat Morton? He thought, as he backed slowly away waving his right hand behind him trying to locate the door that he knew was there.

  Everything had happened so quickly and so far, luckily, he had only been hit twice. Morton turned to face Grimshawe. It had been a long time since he had got any joy from hurting someone but this time he was going to enjoy it. His huge chest slowly expanded and contracted as he breathed in and out controlling his breathing. For the first time he allowed some emotion to show as a contented grin spread across his face. He was waiting for this moment when he could at last teach this arrogant young bastard a lesson.

  Grimshawe looked up slowly from the dead man his skin tingled as the adrenalin-fuelled rush firing through his body charging up every nerve. For once his cold eyes looked alive and excited He grinned back at Morton. Tonight, he was unbeatable!

  Morton hardly noticed the blood stained knife in his hand. He stepped away from the fallen bodies and looking contemptuously at Grimshawe threw the pickaxe handle to one side. For any other man this would have been would have been tantamount to suicide but Morton had a point to prove.

  Everything so far had taken place in an eery silence not a word or shout had been made by any of them.

  The two men stood facing each other for what seemed a long time before Grimshawe moved first. Holding the knife stiffly out in front he slowly started to move anticlockwise around Morton. Morton waited patiently for his first move and when it came it caught him by surprise.

  Grimshawe brought his right arm up in the classic stabbing pose the blade held high and menacingly at his opponent’s head but at the last moment, his left arm swung quickly across Morton's midriff! Morton heard the familiar swish of the blade as it was released from its housing before he realised where it was. In a desperate attempt to avoid the unseen blade he bent almost in half from the waist down lunging backwards as the tip of the slashing blade cut across his stomach leaving a thin trail of blood on his expensive handmade shirt.

  Anticipating Morton's next move Grimshawe allowed the momentum of his swinging left arm to help pivot quickly on his left foot, turning his back on Morton he dropped onto his right knee twisting his upper body as far as he could swung the knife in his right hand at Morton's groin sinking the top two inches into his inner thigh.

  Morton staggered backwards as the burning sensation spread across his stomach following the path of the knife. The second knife had taken him by surprise but Grimshawe`s speed even more so! Before he had taken his second, stumbling step backwards the younger man was already advancing on him slashing with controlled anger. The first knife caught him on the right collarbone and cut diagonally across his ribcage leaving an ugly but not life-threatening cut.

  Morton sensed rather than saw the second knife coming at him and more from experience and luck pulled his head back just as the razor sharp blade zipped past his throat!

  The next slashing blade caught Morton lightly on the chin causing no more than a deep scratch. He took a quick, deep breathe but his reactions now were instinctive almost to the point of being automatic. Experience told him that the next blade was coming from Grimshawe`s left and he managed to raise his right hand just in time to parry the blow away from his throat the concealed metal strip in the side of the glove saving his hand from any damage.

  Ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his leg he kneed Grimshawe hard catching him just above the knee and with Herculean strength shoved his knife wielding former subordinate backwards.

  Grimshawe knew that at this moment in time he had the upper hand, though, and was determined to kill Morton while he could. Unfortunately for him he lacked the one thing that his opponent had in abundance – experience! He charged forwards at Morton as soon as he had regained his balance with a loud, angry cry slashing the air in blind fury with every step he took.

  Hindered by the wound to his leg and unable to get out of the way quickly enough Morton defended himself from the almost manic onslaught of the attack.

  Justino Mendoza watched in amazement as the fight unfolded. He had no feelings for either of the two big men that were left. They had both raped his wife but he secretly hoped that the bigger of the two won. He rubbed the damaged finger as he remembered looking into those cold eyes. He now understood why the big man had such a reputation. Outnumbered he had walked into the yard and even now, wounded and facing an armed opponent, he was still silent and focused and, what frightened Mendoza even more, totally calm. Suddenly, Mendoza found a deep unwanted respect for a man he hated.

  Blocking the next knife with his left forearm and the second almost instantaneously with his right he pulled his head back and threw it forward like a spitting cobra head-butting Grimshawe on the bridge of his nose breaking it. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the shooting pains in his leg, he brought his right knee up hard into Grimshawe`s groin followed immediately by a punch that landed cleanly on the point of Grimshawe`s jaw. The punch would have put a normal man down but Grimshawe was hard and tougher than even Morton gave him credit for. He followed up with a short left jab into the side of his head and then stepping forwards throwing the next punch as hard as he could into Grimshawe`s stomach causing the younger man’s head to drop forwards.

  Morton stepped back and once again landed another punch into the middle of Grimshawe`s stomach winding him. Knowing that any immediate retaliation would be slow in coming he took his time with his next punch and swung a vicious uppercut into the face. Blood poured from Grimshawe`s mouth as Morton yanked his head violently upright by his short hair and another punch smashed accurately into his bleeding mouth knocking back his front teeth as more blood poured down his chin.

  Morton stepped back and looked at his young counterpart. He felt nothing for him neither pity, anger nor betrayal. They chose to live in this world. A violent world where friendships were bought and meant nothing. A world only encountered by honest, law-abiding citizens in films and TV programmes. In his world the only laws that applied were those of survival and in times like tonight it was either kill or be killed. He knew that if he allowed Grimshawe to walk away he would be back. Pride dictated that he would hunt him down for revenge. Morton knew that he could never be safe with Grimshawe looking for him. He would spend the rest of his life with one eye over his shoulder.

  He hit Grimshawe twice more on the chin with bone-jarring shots and took a step back to give him room he kicked his failing adversary hard in the stomach making him fall even quicker to his knees on the ground. Allowing himself a few deep breaths he kicked Grimshawe on the jaw dislocating it as bits of teeth and a shower of blood flew across the yard. Semi-conscious a beaten Grimshawe lay on his side and slowly slipped into merciful unconsciousness as kick after kick thudded in on the soft, sensitive areas of his beaten body.

  Finally, to exhausted to carry on Morton looked down at the still body of his once lieutenant. Picking up on of Grimshawe`s knives he placed the sharp tip against Grimshawe`s spin in the middle of his back and using the palm of his hand punched the knife hard severing the spinal cord. I am not a killer, he thought, and besides, there are worse things than death!

  Chapter 27

  Morton staggered across the yard guided by the light of the open door and limped as fast as his throbbing leg would allow him along the dimly lit corridor to the steps. Using the wall as support he fell more than walked down the thirteen steps and rushed into the `special room. `

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a dark haired woman strapped to the chair. At least it was not Kim! Turning quickly to search the remaining two rooms he stopped as she spoke.

  “Please, help!” her plea sounded desperate and frightened and any other time would have fallen on deaf ears but tonight Morton was a
different man. She had heard the noise drifting down to her from outside and had guessed that Kim's friend had arrived. She gasped audibly as he appeared in front of her. Her mouth fell open. She wanted to ask for help but was not sure who needed help the most. He was covered in blood and limping. It had to be him!

  From her torn clothes Morton assumed that Grimshawe had been interrogating her. “Where is she?” the question was blunt and direct.

  Somehow she knew immediately who he meant, “I…I don't know. They took her…Kim…away,” she stammered as she looked at the huge, injured man towering over her. “I don't know where but I…” she bit down on her lip as she remembered the screams, “I…heard her scream!” her voice trailed away to almost a whisper.

  He silently undid the ties binding her wrist and quickly moved passed her into the small passage that lead to the only two other cellar rooms. He peered quickly into the first barely stopping as he saw that it was empty moved on to the second. He stopped as he approached the doorway. Lying on the floor, her face covered in blood was Kim!

  Francesca had followed him and brought both hands up simultaneously, covering her mouth with her fingers as the blood visibly drained from her face. Morton approached slowly and knelt down beside the still form of the unconscious Kim. He breathed out visibly relieved when she suddenly emitted a soft groan. Lifting her up carefully in his thick, muscular arms he easily carried her out of the building and made his way back to his car.

  Francesca followed not knowing what else to do. She stopped and stared in numbed, disbelieving horror at the human carnage before her as she entered the yard. Stepping cautiously she picked out the straightest path to the gateway that lead to her freedom walking between the four men lying on the ground. She stopped as she came level to Cold Eyes and saw the knife sticking out of his back. She felt no for him pity! He had got what he deserved. She could not feel sorry for him . He was an animal! He was not only prepared to rape her but it was obvious that he was going to enjoy it! She wondered briefly how many other women he had humiliated.

  She walked on again but came to a sudden stop as she literally bumped into the big man carrying Kim. He had stopped to talk to a man standing at the entrance, “You’ll find her there,” she heard him say.

  Justino Mendoza mumbled his appreciation to Morton. Still shocked at what he had just witnessed but also genuinely grateful that the man who had only days ago caused so much personal anguish and heartache had told him where to find his wife.

  Francesca felt as though she was in a surreal world where everything around her seemed normal. She could hear sounds’ coming from an overloud TV set somewhere nearby, a dog was barking in the distance and a child was crying and in the midst of this there was the human carnage that had taken place just yards away from many of their homes that had gone by completely unnoticed.

  She watched as he gently laid Kim along the back seat of his car and tenderly brushed her hair from her face. The contrast between his big, bloodied hands and the soft complexion of her skin brought home again the two extremes of the night and the man she probably owed her life too.

  “Please!” she begged him, “”please, don`t leave me here!” he turned away as though he had not heard his only concern was to get help for Kim. “don't leave me here!”

  He stopped with his hand on the open door. He had no use for her and, besides, she could only bring him more trouble. With one last look her way he got into the car without saying a word.

  Francesca opened the rear door and got in uninvited, “Kim needs tending!” she said.

  As he drove he made a call on his mobile and twenty minutes later they were being treated at the local hospital. Doctor Pauline Hopper was an old flame who owed him her life - literally! Her way of repaying him was to look after him medically whenever he needed her no questions asked and no explanations offered.

  Tonight was different and he had surprised her by carrying in a young, badly beaten girl. In her years as a doctor she had seen many victims of violence from gang related skirmishes on the streets to domestic abuse, victims suffering everything from stab wounds and broken bones to severe bruising and shock but her latest patient made even her wonder at the cruelty of human nature.

  “What happened?” she was afraid to ask knowing his chosen profession., “I need to know as much as you can tell me!”

  “She took a beating! That's all I know. That's how I found her!” Morton answered truthfully. She was surprised to see how concerned the tough man was about her even though he tried hard not to let his feelings show.

  Morton and Francesca waited outside the curtained treatment section. Eventually he spoke to her, “Are you alright?” for the first time he realised that her blouse had been ripped open. She was trying her best to hide herself by keeping her arms tightly folded.

  She looked at him confused and nodded numbly. So far tonight she had been abducted, sexually tortured and witnessed first-hand what she expected was the result of his handiwork with four men laying dead in the yard and then his genuine concern for a girl and the tender and careful way he had carried her.

  There was a swish of curtains and Dr. Hopper reappeared. “She's badly injured. I've ordered x-rays and a scan and can tell you more when I have the results.” She looked at Francesca frightened to ask but knew it was her medical duty, “Are you okay? Do you need medical attention?” Francesca shook her head.

  Whilst Kim was wheeled away she treated his wounds, “Christ, Geoff, when are you going to stop this and get a decent job! This line of work will kill you!” she was angry with him as always whenever she had to patch him up but there was also genuine concern. As a doctor she never got emotionally involved with any of the thousands of patients that she saw but tonight she was fighting back the anger as she gently treated his badly beaten body.

  “Soon,” he replied thinking hard.

  The results came back, “The injuries are not as bad as I thought. Bad but not life threatening! She has several broken ribs. Not much we can do about that, as you know,” she cast him a dark look, “time will heal them. Her kidneys are badly bruised and she has a broken cheekbone. Again time will fix that and apart from severe bruising on her skull the rest, surprisingly, is just superficial cuts and bruising.” A jealous curiosity got the better of her professionalism, “I suppose she is pretty?” she realised her mistake immediately, “don't answer that!” she looked down at the charts in her hand, “I'll find a bed for her and admit her.”

  “No. It’s okay. I'll keep her with me. I'll find somewhere…nice for her.” He corrected himself just in time.

  “Geoff, I know you only ever come to me when it's bad and things have gone wrong. I'm guessing that things are really bad at the moment.” She held up her hand before he could say anything, “I really shouldn’t know what you're up to but please… please take care!” she implored him.

  Chapter 28

  Rosa Mendoza walked hesitantly into the hotel lobby convinced in her own mind that people were aware of why she was there. Crossing the floor she headed nervously for the lift

  looking straight at the polished doors embarrassed to make eye contact with any of the other guest. This was the beginning of a nightmare that there was no coming back from. Standing outside the door where she was expected she felt her legs go weak as her heartbeat quickened. She tapped lightly on the door hoping that no one would hear her. The door opened and an Arabic man looked her over. “Reaka?” he inquired.

  She took a deep breath fighting to keep the vomit down that was already rising in her stomach. She nodded as the door was opened wider and she was taken gently by the wrist and pulled into the room.

  Another woman was already there on the bed entertaining two men while another three stood around with drinks in their hands watching.

  The man who opened the door groped her breast from behind and called to his friends in his native tongue. Within minutes hands were all over her and her clothes were being pulled off as they lead her to the bed.

&nb
sp; Thanos left the launderette and run as fast as his short legs would carry him back to his car constantly checking over his shoulder for the pursuer he knew would come. He drove home like a man possessed more concerned about his ex-partner than he was about a run-in with the police

  ******

  Geoff Morton drove fast but carefully through the night-time traffic. It always surprised him how much traffic there was on the streets of London even at night no matter what the time. Even though he was driving fast he was careful. The last thing he wanted right now was to be pulled over by a bored cop who had nothing to do. He made a stop at a petrol station before making his way across to North London.

  He pulled up outside the restaurant, which was open for business as usual and left the engine running. He stopped outside the big plate glass window and looked in. He estimated there were probably twenty or so customers. He also noted the group of Chinese men sitting at the back of the restaurant. They were very solemn looking and obviously not here to enjoy the cuisine! Family members owned most of these restaurants and the odds were that these were the silent partners here to protect their interest. They were obviously expecting his company!

  He had always believed in meeting his problems head on. He watched the look on their faces as he walked calmly through the front door swinging the petrol can around in as wide an arc as his arms would allow considering his injuries, throwing its clear but noxious smelling contents indiscriminately across the room coating anyone and anything that it landed on.