No Stopping

by Nolon King

  He moved his queen into position. “Checkmate. Now it’s three.”

  Mal sat back on the bench and finished losing her twenty.

  Chapter 23 - Victor Forbes

  Victor woke up in the remote house with a throbbing back.

  His room was nice, except for the bed. He had a private shower and bathroom, and, if you didn’t count the cameras that were surely hidden in his room, he also had privacy. The rest of the house, or compound he supposed, sat on an acre and a half of woodlands on Creek County’s westside.

  The house was one of the ones Molchalin used to put up special guests of Voluptatem who came to the northeast coast for vacation. It was used to host sex parties for the most part, with members and underaged prostitutes. But right now, it was a prison for him and Spider. Plus, command central for this operation.

  Molchalin had brought in his own crew from BlackBriar’s European branch to watch over the house and Victor — men who owed no allegiance to his prisoner. Men who would kill him in a blink if he tried to escape. Clark was the only local he’d been able to bring with him — head of cybersecurity at BlackBriar’s Jacksonville branch.

  Victor showered then headed to the dining room where he sat across from Clark, who was eating eggs and fruit while reading the news on his tablet. The table wasn’t large, but it still cost more than a new BMW on the lower end of the lot. Italian marble and stainless steel. Aluminum fusion leg polished and mirrored with an enameled crocodile pattern. The design was extraordinary, but Victor wasn’t impressed. He preferred American wood and old-fashioned craftsmanship. But he’d also run security for parties in this place more times than he could count, so he understood why they would want furniture that was easy to wipe down.

  A second man sat at the table a few chairs from Clark. A German named Franz, head of the European security team.

  “Good morning.” Victor poured himself a glass of water from the decanter on the table.

  “Morning,” Franz said with a barely a nod, looking at a German-language website and sipping his coffee.

  “Good morning,” Clark said in a friendlier greeting.

  “Any news?” Victor asked.

  “Nothing new,” Clark said.

  Jan, their resident chef from South Africa, came out of the kitchen with a wide smile.

  “Good morning, Mr. Forbes. Per your request, I’ve prepared a fried egg with garlic and a side of hazelnuts and blackberries. But I hope you’ll enjoy these croissants first.” He placed a basket with warm croissants and honey butter in front of Victor. “Would you like some orange juice or milk?”

  “This water is fine,” Victor said.

  Chef Jan returned to the kitchen, and Victor ignored the early morning carbs.

  Victor turned to Clark. “Are you doing everything you can to sufficiently motivate her?”

  “She’s scared out of her mind. Does that count as sufficient motivation?”

  “Did you tell her what happens to her if she doesn’t get this?”

  Clark swallowed the last of his orange juice then set his empty glass on the table. “She’s doing what she can, same as our own people. No guarantees we’ll get it in time.”

  Victor pounded his fist on the table, causing the plates and glasses on it to clank.

  He felt Franz look up but didn’t glance at the man. “Are you sufficiently motivated, Clark? Do I need to remind you what’s at stake?”

  “No, sir. Mr. Molchalin has already informed me.”

  Victor wasn’t sure if Clark was name dropping to show his boss’s boss had gone around him to speak with Clark directly or simply letting Victor know they were on the same page.

  “Very well, then,” Victor said with a smile, “if she doesn’t have anything by the end of today, I want you to show her we mean business.”

  “Sir?” Clark asked.

  “Cut off her left pinkie.”

  “But, sir, she needs to type.”

  “That’s why we’re leaving her other nine fingers.”

  “I don’t think that’s a—”

  “I didn’t ask what you think, did I?”

  He stared at Victor but refused to challenge him. “Very well, sir.”

  Then Clark tucked the tablet under his arm and left his unfinished food on the table. Franz chuckled as he walked away.

  Victor turned to him, wanting to smack the man across his ugly, wide face. But Franz was a brick house. Even in his late forties, and looking one step down on the evolutionary chart of men, Victor knew it would be a mistake to get snappy with him.

  Still, he couldn’t say nothing. “What’s so funny?”

  “Ah, nothing,” Franz answered dismissively. “You wouldn’t get it.”

  “Try me.” Victor glared at him.

  Franz looked up from his tablet, only acknowledging Victor’s presence enough to challenge him. “I wouldn’t let my men talk back to me like that. You’ve got to show them who’s boss. You let one talk to you like that, and suddenly you’re everyone’s bitch.” An overly furry eyebrow arched as he smiled to show his atrocious dental work.

  “I’ve got my men’s loyalty,” Victor said as Chef Jan served his breakfast.

  Franz grabbed his tablet and coffee then stood. “Of course you do.”

  He left the room.

  Victor looked down at his plate, troubled by the arrangement of the eggs and berries. It was as if the chef was in a rush and had thrown everything down without any care given to plating.

  He looked up at Chef Jan. “What’s this?”

  “It’s the —”

  “I know what it is. I want to know why it looks like someone threw it all on the plate.

  Chef Jan’s lips curled down, red flashing in his cheeks. “I’m sorry, sir, I will make you another.”

  “I don’t have time for you to make me another. Just make sure that lunch looks more presentable.”

  “Of course, sir. Please accept my apologies. Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No.” Victor shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, disgusted with the lack of respect from everybody in this damned place.

  He couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Clark on repeat.

  Victor had personally brought Clark into BlackBriar. Recruited him from the Army and gave him a great paying job with a singular purpose. And this was how he repaid him? Questioning his boss in front of a lowly German thug?

  Franz was right about one thing. Letting your underlings talk back was a slippery slope. Not only had Clark questioned his superior, he’d flaunted the fact that Mr. Molchalin had spoken to him directly.

  You’ve got to show them who’s boss. You let one talk to you like that, and suddenly you’re everyone’s bitch

  Victor stood, determined to set things straight and show them all who was boss.

  Chapter 24 - Spider

  Spider was dying for a scalding hot shower.

  She hadn’t bathed since she’d been brought here, despite the shower in the adjoining bathroom.

  Now, she sat at her desk waiting for Clark to come back as her stomach continued to growl. She wished she’d eaten the dinner he brought last night and wondered if he’d bring donuts.

  Funny how fast this was becoming her new normal — being held against her will, working to crack some sick pedophile’s flash drive, and wondering if fried dough might be part of her morning.

  She’d tried getting on the wi-fi, despite Clark’s prior warnings, but she couldn’t find a signal. They must’ve turned off the router while her overseer was at breakfast.

  So, she kept poring through tons of email saved to the second of Wes’s laptops, searching for any clue to the domain she was supposed to bring down.

  Most of the emails detailed mundane information about his real estate holdings, alongside a few exchanges with men from dating sites. Spider tried not to let her emotions bury her hopes of escape.

  But trying wasn’t the same as doing.

  And then, of course, there was Tyre
ll. Dead because of his loyalty to her. Spider thought she’d been doing something good by hiring him, offering a job to a friend who needed the money, who’d been caught up in the drug game too long. A job as her bodyguard was supposed to be safer. Spider didn’t really have enemies. Despite working for dealers who might’ve been at odds with one another, her work didn’t impact the others. She aided them all equally — hacking into places and helping them get out of jams, creating fake passports and credentials, getting schools to change grades for some of the younger ones to help them trade the hood for a decent college.

  Spider was one of Butler’s untouchables, so she never imagined she’d be putting Tyrell into any genuine danger.

  And now he was dead because of her.

  She thought of their last conversation. He was taking a culinary class at night school and was talking about getting out of here, heading to Orlando where his uncle’s friend ran a restaurant. He dreamed of moving to Atlanta, a place he’d had fond memories of since he visited with his dad as a kid, and opening his own place.

  I’m gonna call it Franklin’s.

  “What if there’s already a place called Franklin’s?” Spider had asked.

  “Then I’ll call it Franklin Thomas White’s. Can’t be too many places called that, can there?”

  It seemed so hard to believe their conversation was only a few days old. She’d never look into his bright, happy eyes again. These bastards had killed him. And Spider wanted them all to pay.

  She prayed the Professor was trying to find her and wasn’t already dead.

  When the door opened behind her, she turned.

  Clark entered carrying his thermos in one hand and something wrapped in foil in the other.

  He set it in front of her.

  She opened the package to fina a thick slice of banana walnut bread.

  Spider took a bite, her mouth watering and her stomach rumbling in anticipation of more. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He fished a bottle of cold water from his jacket pocket, set it next to her, then sat at his table, eyes down on his tablet.

  “I could really use a shower.” Spider reminded him without begging.

  Clark said nothing, so she ate in silence, taking the occasional sip of water as she sifted through emails. She finally found one with a domain registration from three years ago.

  “I need to get on the web.”

  “What is it?” Clark asked.

  She called him over, showing him the website address she’d found registered to him: TheTruthRevealed.

  “Shit.” Clark grabbed his phone to turn on the router.

  Her heart began to race. Maybe this was her chance to finally earn her freedom. Spider didn’t want to help these fuckers, but she would if that meant getting the hell out of here.

  She brought up the address, but it wasn’t active, redirecting to a registry with a page saying that the domain was for sale.

  “Damn,” Clark said. “Maybe he let this one lapse, but he bought a dot org or another dot something. Check them all, see what you can find.”

  He dragged his chair over and sat beside her, watching as she worked. For the first time, it didn’t feel like he was watching over her so much as working with her.

  After twenty minutes, they found one active website, redirected to a conspiracy blog.

  “This could be a placeholder,” Spider suggested. “Assuming this is the same URL, once it’s ready to go live, it’ll forward to the actual site instead. But we have no way of knowing where it will be hosted until then. I can bring it down once we have that. Until then, I need to try and get into the registrar.”

  She did a Whois lookup to find out where the domain was originally bought, then searched through Wes’s email for anything from them.

  Nothing.

  Spider went to the registrar and had an option to enter either an email or a login name along with a password. The website blocked her attempts with a time out before she could brute-force a password.

  “I could make a script to run through different VPNs, but it’s going to take some time.”

  “Let’s do that.” He got on the phone and relayed their findings to someone else.

  As Clark finished the call, the door burst open. Victor stormed, his face flush as he looked from Spider to her boss. “What do we have?”

  Clark updated him on the potential good news.

  Spider expected him to be pleased, but instead Victor managed to look more annoyed.

  “But you don’t have anything for certain?”

  “Well, no, sir,” Clark said. “But it’s something.”

  “No,” Victor snapped, “it is not something. Something is when we’ve got the flash drive decrypted and the website is down. This is nothing!”

  Clark started to say something, but Victor held up a finger. “I don’t want to hear excuses. You’re paid for results. If you can’t give them to me, I’ll have to do your job for you.”

  “What?” Clark said, uncharacteristically flustered.

  Victor shoved him aside on his way toward Spider. He went around to her left then grabbed her arm.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she yelped.

  He forced her fingers down flat on the table.

  Spider tried to twist away from him, but being partially paralyzed, she couldn’t exactly use her entire body to wriggle free.

  “Stop!” Victor yelled, his voice taking on a terrifying tenor. He pushed down harder on her wrist.

  She heard Clark say something, but it was lost in Victor’s grunts as he pressed his body down on her arm, shielding her from seeing her hand.

  “What are you doing?” Spider shrieked, her heart pounding fast.

  He splayed her fingers apart.

  She felt nauseated, her vision blurring at the edges as she realized what was about to happen.

  “No!” she cried, struggling uselessly. In the months after her accident, Spider had refused to ever feel helpless again, but right now, her personal vow was only a joke.

  The cold metal was sharp against her pinky.

  She wailed, “Please, no.”

  “Stop!” Victor yelled again as he shoved the blade down. Then he stood back.

  Spider stared in horror at her dismembered pinky finger, blood pooling around it on the table, and a bleeding stump from the second knuckle on her hand.

  She felt dizzy. The darkness started at the edges of her vision, before blurring the world and everything in it.

  Chapter 25 - Jasper Parish

  Jordyn woke with a scream.

  Jasper grabbed his gun then searching for an intruder in the small room above the garage. But they were alone.

  She sat up, sweating through her long-sleeved tee.

  “What?” Jasper asked.

  “He hurt her.”

  “Who?” But the answer was flooding his mind, alongside a perfect picture of unbridled brutality.

  Victor Forbes over Spider, cutting off the tip of her finger. He could feel Spider’s fear, followed by the cold shock and horror as she finally passed out.

  And then, Jasper felt nothing. “Is she alive?”

  “Y-yes,” Jordyn said, shaking in her bed.

  Jasper went to hug her. “It’s okay, we’re going to get her.”

  “How? Our one shot at finding her is gone.” Jordyn stood and pushed past her father.

  He thought she wanted to be alone, but she didn’t leave. She went to her backpack, pulled out Spider’s unicorn, then held it in her open palms, closing her eyes and focusing.

  Jasper watched, hoping she’d get something this time. He always felt bad for Jordyn when her talents failed to manifest. And this time, Spider’s life hung in the balance.

  Forbes must’ve been frustrated to take such drastic action. If he was the evil fuck Jasper believed him to be, then how long did they have until he did something more? What if she couldn’t decrypt the drive in time? Or what if she gave them what they wanted? What would they do, then?

&nb
sp; Spider was dead unless Jasper got to her. BlackBriar was cleaning house, no reason to leave her alive.

  Jordyn’s eyes finally brightened, her cheeks pushing up with a huge smile.

  “What is it?” Jasper asked.

  “I feel something now. I don’t know if it’s her pain, or maybe that’s she passed out, but … yes, I feel something. We need to drive. If we get close enough, I think I can find her.”

  Jasper nodded.

  Finally, some good fucking news.

  They drove slowly down a narrow road on the west side of Creek County, close to Kim’s RV, assuming it was still parked there.

  Jasper looked over at Jordyn as she stared out the window at the field of tall grass to their right. The field seemed to yawn on for a while before breaking into woodlands.

  “What’s back there?” Jordyn asked.

  He slowed down and looked at his phone’s screen. “Nothing for about half a mile, then a residential neighborhood. Why? Sense something?”

  She pursed her lips, then shook her head. “No. Keep going.”

  Jasper kept driving, feeling like he was going in circles. He looked over at Jordyn, trying to see if his daughter was losing the signal. She looked confused.

  “It’s okay if you lost it.”

  “No, no, I can sense something, like a name on the tip of your tongue. Just keep moving … there’s a white van.

  He turned west onto the main street, then continued toward the county line. They were surrounded by thousands of acres of forest dotted with the occasional road to nowhere or farms on either side.

  They passed vehicles, mostly big rigs, work trucks, and pickups probably belonging to farmers. The dirty, dusty vehicles made the pristine white van more conspicuous.

  Jasper found himself behind a big, slow-moving tractor trailer as they neared a long bend in the road. He couldn’t pass without crossing a double line or risking getting pulled over or spotted by the van. But the longer he stayed behind the truck, the farther ahead the van would be, and the more likely he was to miss it if the vehicle turned onto a side street.