by Bowes, K T
“Logan would’ve known you.” Hana coughed again.
“Yeah, that’s why we hid. We’re not stupid.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
Dominic Dressler shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t care about you.” He pointed to a long cut on the bridge of his nose. “See this? Your husband did it the other night. I don’t care about you but I do wanna see him squirm.”
“None of this makes sense.” Hana took a bigger gulp of tepid water and coughed again. Droplets went down her windpipe and she felt the pain in her chest for real, clutching at it in fear. Dominic leaned forward and collected the glass as it tipped in her fingers.
“My dad’s an idiot. But if you’re part of the deal, then so be it.” He shrugged. “It’s no biggie. We’ll get far enough from Hamilton to be safe and then set up again. I’ve got a house in Auckland we’ll go to.”
“You won’t want to drag me around with you.” Hana rubbed her chest and her mind thought up solutions and then disregarded them. “My children will need to go to school; someone will find us.”
Dominic nodded. “Whoa lady, you’re thinking way too far ahead. You were just the bait to bring my father back home where he belongs. You’ll find yourself involved in a little accident soon and he’ll be inconsolable.” His smile looked evil, lips curled back from his teeth in a sneer. “You made it real easy for me to get rid of him by demanding those pills. The contractors aren’t taking you and him to a new place, miss. They’ve got strict instructions on how to get rid of you.”
Hana shook her head. “My husband knows some bad people.” She fixed a steady gaze on his youthful face. A smattering of beard hair sprouted from his chin like dirty blonde fluff. “He’ll send the Triads after you. They won’t ask questions; they’ll just float your battered body in Auckland harbour in a suitcase. That’s what they do. I’m begging you, leave my children out of this or you’ll be sorry.”
Dominic laughed. “You talk some smack, missus. Triads!” He scoffed and Hana allowed a look of amusement to part her lips. It was enough to make him think again. “Your husband don’t know no Triads.” He sounded less convinced.
“Mr Che owes Logan his life. He always responds to requests for help.”
Dominic sneered. “Whatever!” His brow knitted. “Why does he owe him his life?”
Hana uncrossed her legs and moved her arm so the knife fell into her cuff. She used the other hand to pull the sleeve loose and the knife slipped into her palm. “Mr Che suffered a heart attack and Logan resuscitated him and kept him alive until the ambulance arrived. Mrs Che runs security now and Logan only has to call her. They’ll flush you out in very little time and make you wish you’d never been born.”
Dominic’s lips curled back in a snarl. “You’re bluffing lady. I think you need a gag to stop you fantasising about big scary friends who don’t exist.” He stood up and backed towards the door. “Get ready for another sleep, Hana,” he said. The door clicked shut behind him and Hana heard a bolt shoot closed. She knew he’d gone to fetch more of the chloroform they’d used on her before.
With shaking fingers, she pulled the blade from her sleeve and examined it for a switch to extend it. Turning the metal shaft over in her hands she heard Dominic moving around downstairs. “Where is it?” she hissed, pressing every part of the knife’s surface in panic. “Maybe it’s push, not press,” Hana corrected herself as she moved a metallic decoration in the shape of a running horse. She eased it towards the top of the shaft and the blade shot out, moving through a ninety-degree angle at speed. The razor sharp edge nicked the palm of her other hand. “Fantastic!” she groaned as blood pooled in the thin wound.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, robbing Hana of the chance to run behind the door. Her gentle nature fought with survival instinct and by the time the bolt slid back and the handle started to turn, she felt paralysed by indecision.
Dominic closed the door behind him and held the filthy rag outstretched in his hand. He paused a moment to cup it in his palm, ready to close over Hana’s mouth and nose. Seeing the terror on her face, he looked apologetic. “It doesn’t hurt. Just think of it as a good sleep until the contractors arrive. It might even do you some good.”
Hana’s head wobbled on her neck as fear claimed her muscles and reduced her to inactivity. “No,” she begged. “Please don’t.” She shook her head and tried to back up further on the bed, holding her hand out in front of her. “I don’t want to do this. Please don’t make me.”
“It’s okay.” He leaned over her, reducing her options to just one. Keeping the knife clenched with the blade protruding downwards from the bottom of her coiled fist, Hana jabbed in a hammer action like a child gripping a pencil. The knife slipped into Dominic’s upper thigh with so little effort, Hana only realised she’d stabbed him when blood soaked her hand and dripped onto her jeans. Dominic looked surprised and then angry, clasping the wound one handed and grappling for Hana with the other.
“Get off me!” she screamed into his face and slashed at the hand trying to restrain her. Dominic inhaled and removed it, staring in horror at the blood streaming from two of his fingers.
“You bitch!” He backhanded her, spreading his blood over her face and the collar of her sweater. He snatched at her hair and Hana struck out with the knife again, catching him on the forearm. Dominic bellowed in pain and fell backwards onto the bed. The blade skittered from Hana’s blood soaked fingers and loath to retrieve it, she seized the damp cloth which Dominic dropped on the floor. Leaning over him she shoved it into his face, holding it over his nose and mouth, even though he thrashed and writhed. When his body stilled, she slid to the dirty carpet next to the bed and sobbed with guilt and regret.
Hana checked for a pulse in his wrist but felt nothing through her shaking fingertips. Dominic Dressler looked dead, sprawled on the bed and bleeding. Hana spotted the rectangular shape in his jeans pocket and pushed her fingers between the gap. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry.” Grasping the phone in her blood stained hands, she peered at the screen which jumped to life and saw it asking for a password. “I don’t know it,” she wailed.
Dominic’s right foot twitched, sending Hana scuttling across the floor in horror. She gathered her wits about her and ran for the door, fumbling with the bolt on the outside whilst realising how foolish the action seemed as she imprisoned a dead man. Once in the hallway, the layout confused her. With no recollection of entering the house, it looked impossible to find her way out. “Think, think!” she urged, forcing her feet to walk forwards. “It’s two-storey; there must be stairs.”
Hana found four more bedrooms before the hallway opened out to a stair well. She crept down, checking around the corner of a dog-leg for more of her captors. Knowing time marched against her, Hana found the front door at the bottom of the stairs and tried the handle. She panicked when it didn’t budge and ran her hands over her face. “Open, damn you!” she begged. Locked from the outside with a key, it remained firm, awaiting the return of Bobby or his men. Hana searched out a rear door. She found a ranch slider in a downstairs lounge and sobbed with relief as the lock clicked up and the glass slid open at her touch.
She closed it behind her, trying to give herself time to get away. A pretty garden opened out behind the cedar wood house and post and rail fencing gave way to wide paddocks bathed in moonlight. The house next door looked unlit and deserted and Hana swallowed, unable to trust anyone. “I need Logan,” she hissed, running her thumb across the phone screen again and getting only the password request.
The sound of a nearby car snapped her to attention and she cleared the garden in seconds. The post and rail fence proved easy to clamber over and Hana fled, alarming a small group of steers who jumped and ran away from her. Her legs felt like jelly as the adrenaline coursed through her veins and her heart rate doubled. Every few steps she looked over her shoulder, dreading the moment when the men appeared and came after her. She didn’t stand a chance.
> Chapter 59
Desperation
Hana fell numerous times in the damp grass, bruising those parts of her body not already wrecked. The wool of her slippers became heavy with evening frost and she slipped and slid despite the rubber soles. The cows ran away and then returned, trotting after her and bucking and kicking as though playing a game. Knowing they’d attract attention and make her more visible to her pursuers, Hana climbed a nearby fence and entered the garden of a single level house with a swimming pool. She hid between the silky fronds of a silver fern, pushing herself backwards into the clustered native plants and praying she couldn’t be seen. Clutching the phone again, she saw the screen come to life and noticed another message at the bottom. She obeyed the instruction and pressed the three numbers guaranteed to bring help without requiring a password. ‘Press 111 for emergency.’ When the operator answered, Hana’s voice cracked with emotion.
“Please, help me. Help me. I need cops and an ambulance.”
“What’s your location, madam?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Hana peeped through the bushes, seeing a bulldog peering in her direction from behind the glass of a ranch slider. Light shone from behind it and it barked and put its front paws against the slippery surface, falling off sideways and trying again. “There’s a dog. It’s going to get me.” Hana let out a sob. “Please, they’re coming. You have to help me.”
“The dog’s coming madam?”
“No! The men who kidnapped me. I stabbed one of them. Please come and get me.”
“You stabbed someone? Are they still alive?”
“No! He’s dead. The others went for dinner so I stabbed him when he tried to smother me with the sleeping drug.”
“What’s your name and the number of the phone you’re calling from?”
“I’m Hana. Hana Du Rose. Please send help.”
“What’s your phone number, Hana?”
“I don’t know. I took it from the man I stabbed.” The operator asked more questions and Hana sat in the bushes and panicked, unable to process her words or reply with anything more than short, panicked breaths. “Horsham Downs,” she said as a memory returned. “He said they brought me to Horsham Downs, but I’m hiding in someone’s garden and there’s a dog.”
“Can you knock on the door of the house?” the operator asked. “Is anyone home?”
“No, no!” Hana looked down at her sweater and cringed. “I’m covered in blood.”
“Is it your blood, Hana?”
“No, it’s his.”
“The man you stabbed?”
“Yes, it’s his. Please, is anyone coming? Help me.” Hana dropped the phone onto the ground and put her face in her hands. She smelled the metallic scent of blood and the last of her resolve left her. Cradling her head in the crook of her elbow and drawing her knees up tight to her chest; Hana admitted defeat and waited for the inevitable moment when the householder released the dog and it made a beeline for her. “Logan,” she whispered into the soft fronds of the silver fern. “Logan, I need you.”
The muffled sounds of the dog sent shivers down her spine and she contemplated moving. The bare paddocks offered no protection if the men set off across the grass after her and Hana clamped her teeth over the back of her fist to muffle the cry of misery building in her chest. If they followed her, the barking dog would give her away. Hana reached for the phone again and held it to her ear, hearing static from an open call. “Are you still there?” she asked, her voice small. “They’ll arrive back in a minute and search for me.”
“I’m still here.” The woman’s voice sounded reassuring. “Hana, we know you’re missing. Everyone’s looking for you; you aren’t in trouble. The police and ambulance services are on their way to the Horsham Downs area, but I need some indication of where you are so I can help them find you. What can you see?”
Hana peeked between the fronds and cast her eyes around the back garden, trying not to focus on the silhouette of the enraged dog hurling its body against the window. “There’s a dog,” she said again, unable to tear her gaze from its open maw and the mess it made of the glass with slobber and hair.
“What else?” The operator sounded calm and Hana peered around her. “A swimming pool.”
“What shape, Hana?”
Hana swallowed, realising how dry her throat felt. “I’m thirsty.” Her voice cracked.
“What shape is the pool, Hana? Describe it.”
She shook her head. It sounded such a stupid, irrelevant question and other things vied for attention. The question came again with more insistence and Hana concentrated on the shape of the swimming pool. “It’s dark but I can see that it’s round. No, like a kidney bean.” She poked her face through the bushes and the dog stilled for a moment before renewing its territorial fury. “There’s an in-ground spa on the edge nearest the house and it’s got a turquoise lid on it.” Hana pulled her face back and dropped the phone. She retrieved it and raised it to her ear, streaking orange clay over her cheek.
“Hana?” The operator’s voice sounded urgent. “Look at the house. What colour is the roof?”
“I don’t know.” Reluctant to draw the dog’s attention again, Hana leaned back against a woody trunk and watched an ant crawl up her sleeve.
“It’s important, Hana. I’m looking at satellite photos. What colour is the roof?”
Hana lifted her right hand and parted the fronds above her head. The cornflower blue aluminum roof matched the metal frames of the windows, contrasting against the untreated cedar. “Blue,” she replied. “Blue roof, blue windows and the house is cedar wood. Can I talk to Logan? I want my husband.” Hana’s voice broke and she gave a disgusting sniff. “I want to go home.”
“I know, Hana. Stay with us, love. Help’s on its way.”
Hana’s body jerked with a series of involuntary movements, exhaustion and dehydration catching up with her. She heard movement behind her and yelped as strong arms clamped around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her side. He lifted her up and she bent her knees, trying to ram her feet backwards into his legs. One of her slippers fell off and her attacker tripped over it, toppling her sideways. She dropped the phone and it skittered beneath a lazy jasmine which rambled over the fence and beyond. “I’ve got her.” The man spoke to someone else and Hana jerked her head back, trying to break his nose. She hit his collar bone and he hissed but didn’t let go. “I need help,” he said. “Bring the car round and get ready to take her; I need to sedate her. Yeah, I walked across the paddock and heard her talking. I dunno. Maybe herself. I can’t see a phone.”
Hana let out a scream and sausage fingers clamped over her mouth. She bit the fatty flesh and received a smack in the nose for her trouble. The cloth covered her mouth again and she groaned as sense and reason exited with her next inhale.
Chapter 60
Sons of Regret
Hana woke to the sound of yelling and felt the vehicle slew to the left. “Control it!” a male voice insisted, met by aggression from the driver.
“I’m trying! This road is crap and I’m avoiding the sirens.”
“How did they find us?”
“Helicopter?” A third voice interjected from next to Hana on the back seat. “Or Google Earth. She must have called the cops somehow and given them landmarks.”
“How? You found her hiding in a bush. She couldn’t have.”
“I don’t know!” The man sounded huffy. “I told you I heard her talking. Look, we’ve stayed hidden and switched vehicles. Now we need to leave. Just drive. We’ve got a job to do.”
Hana sat up and tried to look out of the window, groggy and uncoordinated. Her own reflection met her, the dark outside making vision poor. The man next to her put an arm across her chest to help her stay upright. “She’s awake!” he shouted as though it mattered.
“Give her another dose of that stuff then; we don’t need her causing problems.”
The driver swore and pointed to a haze of blue and red lights lea
ving a glow on the low cloud a few kilometres ahead. “They’ve cut us off. I need to get away from the main road.”
“We could dump the car and go on foot. We need to finish this job.”
The man next to Hana rolled his eyes, the whites looking ghoulish in the dim light. “Best not drug her then or she won’t be able to walk. I can’t carry her. How far’s the river from here? I know he wanted her dumping at Port Waikato eventually so she doesn’t wash up anywhere along the riverbank, but they wouldn’t know if we got rid of her earlier.”
A popping sound broke the silence of dusk and the car lurched sideways off the road and travelled longwise into a ditch. Hana’s head hit the window and her brain thrummed for a moment. When her senses returned, she heard running water below her and panicked.
“What did you do that for?” her seat passenger railed and the driver ignored him, struggling to force his door upwards so he could get out.
“It’s too heavy.” He turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened. “I can’t get out! The windows are electric.” He scrabbled around pushing at the handle and managed to open the door a crack. “Help me!” he shouted and the front passenger leaned across him and used his weight against the door. Between them it shifted with an ominous creak and the driver clambered out onto the muddy bank and held it open for the passenger. He groaned and cursed at the weight of gravity which worked hard to force the door closed.
“What about us?” The man next to Hana unclipped his seatbelt and plummeted sideways into her. Hana groaned with the impact and her head banged the window again.
“Just wait. We gotta prop this thing open.”
“Don’t have time.” The driver peered into the vehicle and licked his lips. “Hand her out first and then it will distribute the weight enough for you to crawl forward.”
Hana’s seat companion snatched at her with rough, sausage hands and shoved her through the narrow gap between the front seats. Her slender body passed through, but the weird angle of the car made movement difficult. She clambered up the front seat and as the men held the door at an upwards tilt, she pushed herself out and face planted in the dirt.