by Laura Acton
Perceiving the change in the young woman as he shifted closer to the knives on the butcher block table, Ripsaw asked, “Are you here by choice?”
Natia’s expression grew more saddened, and she shook her head no. “A decade ago, when I was eleven, someone grabbed me as I walked home from school. They brought me here. There is no escaping. This is my life now.”
Ripsaw’s face softened as he reached out to her hand. Eleven? My God, she was only a child. “Would you like to be free to go home?”
Tears filled Natia’s eyes, several slipped out and tracked down her cheek as she nodded yes but said, “Not possible. No one ever leaves here free. The only way I can leave is to be dead or sold.”
Cookie gazed at Natia noting her distress. She rushed over and pulled her into a hug as she glared at the short man. She barked harsh words Ripsaw didn’t understand, but the protective nature of her action was unmistakable.
Natia quickly spoke to Cookie and reassured her Ripsaw did not cause her sadness. She turned to Ripsaw. “Sorry, Cookie doesn’t like it when I cry. She thought you said something mean to me.”
“So, you want to return to your home?” Ripsaw took another step closer to the knife block.
“Yes, we all do. But—” Natia stopped as Ripsaw winked at her and kissed her cheek.
Lightning fast Ripsaw grabbed and threw two knives. Both guards slid down the walls, their hands reaching up to grip the blades in their necks as blood gushed out of severed jugular veins. The men never knew what hit them as they rapidly bled out.
Turning to Natia, Ripsaw said, “Possible. Wait here. My friends will take you to safety.”
Natia and the staff stared at the bloody guards in shock at the speed of what occurred. Her eyes returned to Ripsaw and followed his movements to the kitchen door. “Wait, you can’t go out. A guard on the roof will shoot you.”
“Not going out.” Ripsaw slid open the portal and vocalized the call of the oriental turtle dove “Her-her-oo-oo.” Blaze immediately reciprocated. “Won’t be long before you can leave. Tell them to be ready to run.”
Rooftop Half Mile from Cherry Club
Receiving Blaze’s signal, Brody used the optical night vision scope to aim at the armed bellhop near the rooftop entrance. He took a deep breath in, holding it as he squeezed the trigger. The rifle recoiled against his shoulder. A perfect headshot, the man slid down the door.
He sighted the next target nearest to him. Brody was glad the four remaining marks had not been alerted to the first shot. If lucky, he would dispatch them all before they became aware of his intent.
Brody breathed deep and held again, squeezing off another shot. The red splatter and the man crumpling in place as planned relieved him. He didn’t want the man nosediving to the club entrance. That would give them away for sure.
Sighting the third man at the back of the building, Brody sent a bullet into the night. “Shit! Not what I wanted.” He wished he could reach out, grab Panin’s sentry and stop him from tumbling over the edge.
His comms crackled as Winds’ quipped, “Oops, Humpty Dumpty fell.”
“Yeah, well, at least he’s dead and in the alley. Two more to go.” Swiftly aiming at the fourth lookout, he fired. The slug lodged in the bricks near the guard, missing the intended target. “Christ, how does Blondie shoot so damned fast and maintain accuracy?”
“The kid makes it look easy, doesn’t he?” Winds uttered.
Adjusting, and taking more time to aim, Brody fired a second shot at his red-shirted target. He didn’t go down without a sound, and his fifth target turned. “Damn!” Brody attempted to lock on to the last one as his objective moved to investigate. Not an easy shot, Brody prayed for true aim as his final target reached for his radio. The bullet zinged through his head, and he dropped like a rock, dead before alerting anyone inside.
“All clear. Go,” Brody communicated.
“Well done,” Blaze said as he and Winds came out of their hiding spot.
Kneeling, he expeditiously packed his gear and policed most of the brass, leaving evidence for the police to find as he grumbled, disgusted with himself. “Six shots to take out five targets. Blondie won’t be pleased with me. He’s gonna have my ass at the gun range for hours.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Now get your ass down here and stage the second van,” Patch stated as he moved the van into position. He caught a glimpse of Winds dragging a dead body behind the dumpster.
After arranging the brim of his cap to conceal his face, Brody threw the rope over the side, slung the soft rifle case over his shoulder, and rappelled to the ground. Leaving the line for the police to find, he ditched the rifle nearby and jogged down the deserted street to the vehicle Dom procured. Jumping in the driver’s seat, he turned the ignition over. “On my way.”
Cherry Club – Kitchen
At the knock on the exit door, Ripsaw opened, allowing Blaze and Winds to slip inside. Staying at the door, Winds glanced around and noted the dead men. “Went with knives instead of snaping necks. Blaze, you win the bet.”
Blaze moved to the double doors and assumed a guard position after handing off one bag to Ripsaw. “I’ll collect later. Sitrep, Ripsaw?”
Dropping the bag on the prep table, Ripsaw began to gear up as he reported. “Went as planned in the parlor. Blondie’s gonna have one helluva bruise from Anastasia’s slap. I hope Patch brought a cold pack for later.”
“He gets quite colorful,” Winds said.
Ripsaw continued, “Learned a few things. All the staff here is held against their will. Slaves basically. Natia,” he pointed out the woman with light brown hair to Blaze, “has been unexpectedly helpful. She risked her life to sneak me in here. We need to release the kitchen staff. They are no threat.”
Natia gaped at Ripsaw, as he changed into all black and pulled a mask over his face. Her eyes shifted to the other two men who carried assault weapons. “What are you doing here?” she spoke in Georgian.
Stopping as he clipped on his Kevlar vest, Ripsaw smiled at the young woman. “Rescuing two little girls and the other children Panin keeps.” He motioned to the huddled women. “Tell them they can go out the back door in five minutes. Thanks for your help. You are free to leave too.”
Natia leaned over and kissed Ripsaw’s cheek. “No, thank you. I never thought to be free. You said, two girls?”
“Yes. Sisters. What do you know of the girls?”
“They will be the first ones sold tonight.”
Ripsaw glanced at Blaze and then back at Natia. “Where are they?”
“In the display room by now. Panin will sell them first. They are brave girls. Not cowardly like me. I heard the guards talking how they kept insisting their father would come to save them. No one believed them. Are you their Papa?”
“No.” Ripsaw turned back to his CO. “Natia says Dom’s daughters will be sold first and are the fifth floor already. I must be up there in case Blondie doesn’t wrangle an invitation.”
“What language did you use to speak with her?” Winds asked.
His steady gaze stayed on Blaze, as Ripsaw replied, “Georgian. Blaze, Natia was abducted at eleven from Georgia. There is no one here to help her. I want her to go with the kids so the nuns can help locate her family.”
Blaze assessed the barely clad woman. She appeared quite young. “Alright. Tell her to remain here, and we’ll take her with us when we exfil. According to Makar, the sales start at zero one hundred, so we need to make our way to the office, locate our guys, and take care of a little business.”
As he inserted his earpiece, now finished gearing up, Ripsaw said, “Got a change to the plan which will allow me a stealthy and faster access.” He waved a hand toward the wall. “I’ll ride the dumbwaiter up to the auction floor. Won’t have to shoot my way in there. This way if Blondie is unable to gain an invite, one of us will be near the girls to protect them until the rest can arrive.”
Considering the space in the hoist, Blaze nodded. “My mon
ey is on Blondie being successful. Take their gear with you. If he is, you’ll be able to assist them faster, but wait for my signal to move.”
Ripsaw acknowledged with a nod. Turning to Natia, he smiled. “If you stay here, we’ll take you to a safe place where you’ll never fear Panin again. The place we’re taking all the children so they can receive help to reunite with their families. Would you like that?”
Tears filled Natia’s eyes and leaked out in a river as she nodded.
He thumbed away a tear. “Wait by the door.” When she complied, Ripsaw strode to the dumbwaiter and climbed in.
Blaze stopped as he started to hand him the bag with Blondie’s and Mason’s gear. “Our map is incomplete. Perhaps Natia can give us directions to Savelievich’s office.”
Ripsaw unfurled himself and beckoned Natia over. He relayed the request as Blaze pulled out the hand-drawn map. Natia traced the path and Ripsaw interpreted the directions.
Winds smiled at the young lady. “Perhaps she is aware of where the other children are kept too.”
Blaze could not believe their fortune when Natia nodded and provided them detailed information on where those being sold were held, the secret passageways which ran behind the walls of the rooms, and how they were accessible from Panin’s office.
“You’re an unexpected blessing.” Winds gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
Natia smiled when Ripsaw translated and instructed her to wait by the door.
Glancing at Natia, Winds said, “Hate leaving her here unprotected, but we need to move.”
Of the same opinion, Blaze said, “Thumper, Patch, we’re sending a woman out to you. Ripsaw, tell Natia what to do.”
After Ripsaw finished speaking, a spark of hope flashed in Natia’s eyes for the first time in ten years as she gazed at the three men with appreciation.
Ripsaw crawled back into the cramped space, Blaze loaded him up with the gear bag, pushed the button, and the tiny elevator began to rise. Blaze strode back to the double swinging doors to check if the coast was clear and Winds followed him.
Natia rushed out the back door to freedom. Joyful tears started in earnest as she curled into the corner of the black van. I’m free!
One Cocky SOB
30
May 29
Cherry Club – Third Floor – Vetting Room – 0030 Hours
Exiting the elevator, they found this floor to be quieter than the main club. Panin explained these rooms were used for private parties. The escaping snippets of various genres of loud music and young voices coming from the many rooms they passed as Panin led them to a door near the end of a long hallway, solidified their resolve and commitment to their mission. Opening the door, Panin ushered them in, and they spread out, covertly positioning themselves to deal with guards if the shit hit the fan.
The portal closed, locking Dan, Mike, Mason, and Anastasia in with Panin and five armed guards. Positioned on one wall was a queen-sized bed made with only a white fitted sheet. Mirrors covered the ceiling above the bed and the headboard too. The natural, wood flooring possessed several darker spots which might be old bloodstains.
Mike’s stomach rolled as he realized this was the exact room he stumbled into that fateful night. Here he witnessed a man doing despicable things to a child and another one murdered without hesitation when he didn’t perform those same acts. He threw up in this room bringing attention to himself that night. Mike refused to vomit again and forced sickening thoughts away.
Releasing his grip on Anastasia, Panin strode to a bar and poured a shot of vodka. An oily, snaky smile covered his face as he turned. “Does this bring back pleasant memories, Magic Mike?”
Anastasia noted the color drain from Mike’s face as he clenched his hands. Flicking her eyes to Dan and Mason, they saw the same reaction.
Fighting fear, which wanted to surface, Mike’s muscles tensed. Panin scared the hell out of him as a young man. Old terrors became hard to control being face-to-face with the person who sold him into a debasing life.
The desire to disembowel Savelievich surged forth, but Mike understood he could neither show fear or rage. He attempted to release his fists and control his breathing, finding it rather challenging.
Perceiving Mike’s reaction but not understanding the underlying reason, Dan sought to distract Panin, to shift his attention to him instead of Mike. Bored indifference mixed with irritation in his façade as Dan questioned, “Why are we here?”
Panin turned to Maks and grinned. “Mike knows.” Shifting his beady gaze back to Mike, he added, “Don’t you?”
Gaining hard-won control, Mike glared at Panin. “Yes. You’re a sick bastard, who enjoys watching.”
“Tut tut. You are wrong. I do not like being a voyeur. It is only necessary to ensure my clients are who they claim.” Panin lifted the tumbler and took a sip as his eyes studied Maks. The blond man before him matched the photos of Maksim though the camera lens aged him, appearing younger in person. The pictures also put at least ten pounds on him. These things plus the French magazine article kept him skeptical.
“I will bring in a sampling, and you will select one, more if you want, and prove to me you enjoy something younger as you indicated.” After snapping his fingers, one of his guards opened a hidden door, which until revealed appeared to be part of the wall. In walked seven young girls and two young boys. All wearing only small briefs and nothing more.
Bile burned the back of Dan’s throat as he stared at the children, judging them to be between eight and fourteen. Most of their thin, malnourished bodies contained bruises on various parts, wrists, faces, upper arms, and thighs. Their hollow eyes held reflected hopelessness or fear. My plan better damned well work. No kid should be subjected to something like this. No child, ever!
With a snap of Panin’s fingers, all except the littlest girl removed the only clothing covering their bodies. The tiny girl’s eyes lit with terror and tears. Dan’s eyes locked on her green eyes as an image of Sara overlaid the girl’s face. He could not look away as Panin yelled for her to disrobe. The little girl began violently shaking as tears traced down her cheeks. Dan’s heart shattered.
Mason observed Blondie, wishing he was stationed closer as he noted emotions flash in the blue orbs. If Panin peered too closely, he would read Blondie’s emotions. Too far away to do anything, he inched closer to Panin and waited, allowing Blondie to take the lead as Blaze ordered.
These children affected them strongly, and truthfully nothing could’ve prepared them for this sight. In his peripheral vision, Mason caught Anastasia’s shaky hand cover her mouth. He also noted Mike paled more and his fisted hands clenched tighter. Mason’s own stomach threatened to spill on the wooden floor.
When the frightened girl didn’t comply with Panin’s repeated commands, Panin instructed Josef to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget. The beefy guard stepped forward. Josef pulled back his meaty fist, ready to strike the petrified child.
All thoughts of his plan flew out of Dan’s head. He couldn’t allow this child to be struck. The blow would likely kill her. He failed to save Sara, but he would not fail this tiny child. Dan reacted, lunging at the hefty guard.
They went down hard, but Dan had surprise on his side, and with one punch he cold-cocked the asshole. In the next instant, he was hauled off the unconscious guard by two strapping guards who wrenched his arms high behind his back. The barrels of three guns greeted Dan as he was turned to face Panin.
Mike, Mason, and Anastasia stood stock still. Blondie deviated from the plan, and now they were in new territory. Mason did not blame Blondie for attacking the blaggard. Those tearful green eyes tore out Mason’s heart too. If he had been closer, he would have done the same thing.
No matter how much Mason wanted to protect Blondie at the moment, he did not dare move. He needed a moment to read the situation and give Blondie the opportunity to salvage things. If Blondie defused the state of affairs, they might be back in business. If not, Mason was ready to take out
Panin.
Panin leveled his MP-443 Grach at Maks’ head, aiming between the eyes as his massive guards held the galling bastard tightly.
Dan glared at Panin disregarding the pain in his arms as they were yanked higher. I screwed up royally. The hostility in Panin’s eyes told Dan he was dead. His mind raced a mile a second as he boldly stared down the barrel of the high-capacity, double-action, short-recoil semi-automatic pistol leveled at his head. Think, Broderick. Think.
Saying the first thing which came to mind, fueled by rage deep inside, understanding at a base level what those children experienced, he freed emotions he suppressed for months as his voice came arrogant and cocky, “You gonna kill your cash cow over a punch? Fine! Squeeze the damned trigger. Kill me, and you will never receive a cent of my billion-dollar fortune. Pull the trigger. I dare you, lard ass. Or do you possess any brains which haven’t been soaked in all that greasy crap you put in your hair?”
Lifting his chin, the shards of blue ice in his eyes bore into Panin’s beady, brown ones. Dan didn’t believe all that spilled from him. Antagonizing a man with a gun aimed at you is not a smart move, Broderick.
Mason stared at Blondie for only a millisecond. Holy shit, the kid is insane. He shifted his grizzly bear scowl to Panin and held his breath. His body coiled, ready to strike out if Panin’s finger so much as twitched. He refused to lose his crazy little brother today.
Mike’s jaw dropped. Dan’s got balls. He is gonna be dead in a second, but he has balls, and he isn’t planning on going out quietly. Rapidly, Mike assessed he could take out one bodyguard, Mason had Panin, but that still left one man aiming an SR-2 Veresk submachine gun towards Dan at point-blank range. Anastasia was not close enough to deal with either of them. Goddammit, Dan’s dead. This is going to break General and Mrs. Broderick.
Anastasia hid her smile. My goodness, Dan couldn’t have said anything better. She studied the war in Panin’s eyes. The disgusting man was bleeding mad, but she surmised his desire for wealth directed most of his actions. The way he bragged about his club as they toured, the way he dressed in expensive clothes, all his gaudy opulence spoke of a man driven by money. Anastasia hoped greed won the battle being fought in Savelievich’s mind.