The Takers

by Robert Enright

  Singh knew she was screwed, but she refused to lower her weapon, even as Andrei approached.

  Behind her, the men stopped, the four of them fanning out to cover her from all angles, all of them ready to unload an automatic burst that would wipe her out.

  Andrei’s eyes twinkled with a demonic delight as he stepped nearer, his hand gripping the knife tightly.

  Singh felt her finger twitch on the trigger.

  Amara Singh didn’t fail.

  A booming gunshot shook across the port like a roar of thunder and then one of the armed men behind her flew across the ground, his skull exploding by the velocity of the bullet that had been sent crashing through him. Andrei startled, hopping back a couple of steps before he angrily screamed something in his native tongue.

  All three men turned their guns to the shadows of the port, the rain and darkness shielding their attacker.

  They scanned helplessly.

  Another explosion echoed through the air and another one of the armed guards fell backwards, the top of his skull instantly turned to paint.

  As Andrei panicked, the timer behind him beeped and the lock of the metal crate swung open with a mighty clunk.

  At the top of the abandoned tower that overlooked the port, Sam expelled a considerable amount of effort to pull the chamber back, exposing the empty shell casing of the bullet he had just fired.

  With one eye planted against the scope, he watched as Singh chased Andrei towards the opening crate, as the two other men nervously aimed their guns in different directions.

  He reloaded.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Every gunshot sent a shiver racing down Aaron Hill’s spine, as he sat in the passenger seat of DI Singh’s car. Every time one of the blasts echoed through the air, it hit him like a gut punch. Every shot sent a fresh memory to the forefront of his mind as he recounted how far his life had unravelled.

  Bang.

  The intense panic when he realised his daughter had been taken.

  Bang.

  Stupidly buying a gun and staggering drunk into a criminal hot spot.

  Bang.

  A gun being pointed at his head by Elmore Riggs, followed swiftly by the man’s head exploding.

  Bang.

  Sam Pope saving his life.

  Bang.

  Stupidly pointing a gun at Sam and trying to force him to kill a teenage kid.

  Every gunshot was like a reminder and Aaron felt sick. Somewhere in the vast, metal maze before them, his daughter was waiting. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine the state she was in. Had they beaten her? Or worse? All he wanted, was to wrap his arms around his daughter once again. Nothing else mattered anymore and although he felt guilty for giving Sam up to the police, he knew he had stacked the deck in Jasmine’s favour. He watched as the armed police regrouped and entered, their rifles flashing like cameras as they unloaded rounds of bullets into the unseen enemy.

  Aaron felt himself shaking, knowing that he was sitting on his arse doing nothing.

  Sam Pope had fought and killed to find his daughter.

  DI Singh had potentially thrown her career away to make sure she was brought back safely.

  Sitting still wasn’t enough.

  Aaron threw open the car door and stepped out into the torrential rain. Glancing up and down the road, he didn’t care who had seen him. He ran to the fence and began to climb, reciting his daughter’s name as he battled the slippery metal structure and his chronic fear of heights. As he made his way across the metal crate, he took deep breaths as he lowered himself down and dropped to the wet concrete below.

  The gunshots would guide him and as he wandered further into the dark, deadly war zone in search of his daughter, he realised just how far he would go for her. With careful steps, he continued onwards into the dark.

  The final henchman spun in the air, the left side of his chest ripped open by the velocity of Sam Pope’s final shot. The man fell face down, dead as a door nail and the pool of blood quickly seeping outwards like an unstoppable wave. It quickly joined the puddle forming around the head of the third guard, which Sam had eviscerated with pinpoint accuracy.

  Singh had heard the final two shots but not seen the impact, knowing full well that survival was unlikely.

  Sam Pope didn’t miss.

  That much was clear.

  Her heart pounded against her chest and her lungs burned as she sprinted to the large, dark opening of the crate, her gun raised in front of her. Andrei had reached the threshold a few moments before, allowing the darkness to envelope him. From the horrifying blackness, Singh heard the terrified screams of the teenage girls and stopped in her tracks.

  The vulgar smell of a weeks’ worth of waste filtered out of the crate and a few seconds later, Andrei emerged. His right arm was wrapped around the thin waist of a teenage girl, her ribs prominently showing after a week of near starvation. Her dark hair was greasy and matted and her eyes were red from crying. A few bruises were visible on her arms and legs, the brown edges indicating they were on the mend.

  Singh knew it was Jasmine Hill. Her doting, desperate father had shown her the photos before he had disobeyed her direct orders.

  She screamed for help, her eyes squinting at the first sign of light for days, and Andrei wrenched her towards him.

  In his other hand, he held the knife.

  ‘Let her go,’ Singh yelled, her arms aching but holding firm. The sight of her gun was aimed directly at his chest.

  ‘Put down the weapon or I will slice her fucking throat,’ Andrei screamed, his words alive with fury. There was nowhere to go.

  A man with nothing to lose.

  The most dangerous kind.

  Singh kept her weapon trained on him. She carefully took a step closer, and he lifted the blade, placing the sharp edge against the pale, gaunt throat of Jasmine who froze with fear.

  ‘I mean it,’ Andrei yelled, his words crazed. ‘I’ll carve her open right now.’

  Singh relented, opening up her hands and letting the pistol swing around her finger. She stared at Andrei with hatred before looking at the terrified Jasmine.

  ‘Jasmine. I’m DI Singh,’ she said calmly. ‘I’m here with your father.’

  ‘Dad?’ Her voice croaked.

  ‘Yes. I’m going to take you to him.’

  ‘She stays with me,’ Andrei barked, pressing the knife firmly into her neck. The tip broke the skin and Jasmine cried out as a line of blood dribbled down her chest.

  ‘Let her go,’ Singh ordered. ‘Let her go and we can work this out.’

  Andrei’s eyes widened with fear as, through the darkness, the armed police officers emerged, having successfully taken down or arrested the rest of his men. They stepped out from the shadows, their helmets and vests soaked through and they all trained their rifles in the direction of the standoff.

  A woman strode forward, her seniority as clear as his own and Andrei glared at Assistant Commissioner Ashton. With her rain coat wrapped around her shoulders and a plastic cap over her own hat, she raised her megaphone.

  ‘DI Singh. Stand down,’ she commanded. ‘Stand down or you will be arrested.’

  ‘I can’t do that, Ma’am,’ Singh yelled over her shoulder. ‘Not until he lets her go.’

  ‘DI Singh, this is a direct order.’

  Singh ignored her superior, knowing full well she was flushing her promising career down the drain. As much as she’d obsessed with catching Sam Pope, she’d realised that it was driven by their similarity. He did what was needed to help people. While she would never condone taking the law into her own hands, she realised now that Jasmine’s life was worth more to her than her sparkling reputation.

  Andrei’s eyes were manic, darting from rifle to rifle that was trained on him. Singh knew it was only a matter of seconds before something tipped him over the edge.

  Something would cause him to snap. The man was a powerful criminal who would not bow nor bend over for anyone.

  He would kill
Jasmine and follow her swiftly to the afterlife.

  She needed to act.

  Just as she went to flick her hand back around the pistol that swung from her raised hand, that very reason Singh was dreading appeared. Through the rain-soaked metal corridors emerged Aaron Hill, stepping out behind the armed officers and he followed their aim towards the situation ahead.

  He saw four dead bodies, all of them ripped open by an unstoppable force.

  He saw Singh, standing with her hands up.

  Then he saw her.

  Jasmine.

  The barbaric man who clutched at her with tattooed fingers held a knife to her throat, his other hand wrapped around her waist as she feebly struggled for freedom. Aaron felt the magnetic pull of parenthood, his need to be with his daughter causing his feet to pick up speed.

  He raced past the armed officers and their superior officer, who barked something at him.

  Probably an order to stop.

  He ignored it. As he got within twenty feet, he screamed her name.

  ‘Jasmine!’

  Singh turned and looked over her shoulder, her wide eyes warning Aaron to stay back. As he raced forward, Andrei realised that the moment had arrived and that his final stand had begun.

  In Singh’s mind, everything slowed down.

  As Aaron raced towards his daughter and her captor in slow motion, she spun and launched forward, hoping to get to Jasmine first. Andrei readjusted, his fingers tightening their grip, and he lifted the knife for leverage, before bringing it down towards Jasmine’s throat.

  Singh watched as the blade sliced through the rain drops, the blade millimetres from ending the young girl’s life.

  A gunshot echoed.

  The rush of wind that followed the bullet whipped past everyone and in a horrifying instant, the impact hit Andrei directly in the right shoulder. The explosion of blood and ligament erupted forward and his right arm fell to the floor, the shot severing his arm completely. The knife clattered out of his hand as it hit the floor and Jasmine screamed before racing past Singh.

  Andrei paled, the shock of the severance dominating the pain and Singh raced the final few steps, knowing full well Ashton and her officers were quickly approaching.

  With all her might, she swung and rocked Andrei with the hardest punch she’d ever thrown. His nose broke instantly and he fell backwards to the wet concrete, his body shaking with pain. As she shook the impact from her hand, Singh turned towards the open container.

  Through his scope, Sam watched Singh shut Andrei Kovalenko’s lights out and couldn’t help but smile. The woman was a relentless pain in his arse, but he admired her tenacity.

  With extreme discomfort, he swept to the right and he felt the hairs on his arm lift as Jasmine’s bare feet slapped against the concrete, carrying her far away from her captor. A few feet away, a weeping Aaron raced towards her and Sam felt his heart stop as she leapt forward.

  Aaron caught her, wrapping his arms around his daughter and falling to his knees. Sam watched as the man stroked her hair, holding her as tight as possible. Although Sam would never hold his own son again, he felt no envy for Aaron’s reunion.

  He felt proud.

  Proud that he had ripped the city apart to find the littlest details to get her back, to save her from a terrifying future. As he watched Aaron and Jasmine hold each other, he smiled, wishing them the very best and hopeful that she would be able to recover from her ordeal.

  Jasmine had been through hell and come out the other side. She had a father who was willing to run head first into the abyss for her.

  Sam smiled once more before sweeping his scope once more to the container. Four of the armed officers stood guard, as the others rushed in with foil blankets, wrapping them around the shoulders of the malnourished girls they were escorting out. While they were not greeted by their fathers, Sam knew the police would return them to their families and do whatever they could to ensure it never happened again.

  As the pain from his injuries flared, and he gritted his teeth, he swore he would do the same.

  Watching Andrei writhing in agony on the floor as two paramedics tended to his missing arm, Sam knew he was just the delivery man.

  Sam needed the head of the snake.

  Knowing his work was far from finished, Sam pushed himself to his feet and lifted his sports bag. Before he put his trusty rifle back in its case and disappeared, he allowed his curiosity to get the better of him.

  He lifted the rifle once more, placed his eye to the scope, and focused in on DI Amara Singh.

  As the circle frame of the scope settled on her, he could see her standing, back straight, chin up as her superior officer clearly read her the riot act. As the rain tirelessly splashed against her pretty face, Sam smiled.

  In another life, perhaps?

  Singh reached into her back pocket and handed her badge to her boss, a clear punishment for her actions. But Sam couldn’t help but feel proud of her, she’d done exactly what he had done. She had raced into a war zone to find Jasmine.

  Whether or not she had an ulterior motive to bring him in, it didn’t matter.

  She had done the right thing.

  He observed Singh looking at Aaron and his daughter, the two of them wrapped in a foil blanket and he watched a beautiful smile crack across her face.

  He hoped he would see her again.

  At that very moment, Singh looked up at the tower, as if she was looking directly at him. Slowly, she raised a middle finger, causing Sam to chuckle.

  It was his permission to leave. To disappear.

  Because the hunt for him would only intensify and Sam knew then that his life would never allow him to go back.

  Within a few moments, the radio tower was empty.

  Sam Pope was gone.

  Chapter Thirty

  Amara Singh awoke the following morning, her head still ringing from the harsh blows she’d taken in the heat of battle. She groaned as she lifted herself from her bed, the Egyptian cotton sheets sliding from her, mocking her decision to leave with their extreme comfort. She made her way to the bathroom and inspected herself in the mirror.

  A dark, purple bruise lined her toned stomach and her back ached. A bandage was wrapped across her breasts, the pain of a cracked rib causing each step to be questioned. As she brushed her teeth, she felt something dislodge, and spat a large mouthful of blood into the white, porcelain bowl.

  A tooth rattled around and she plucked it from the water, inspecting it with a shake of the head.

  She felt like shit, but it had been worth it. All the girls were returned to their families, the immediate reports confirming that while they were suffering from malnutrition and some signs of physical abuse, none of them had been violated or sexually assaulted.

  Singh had saved them.

  Begrudgingly, she had to credit Sam Pope as well.

  Thinking of Sam sent a strange feeling through her body and she gently made her way to the kitchen, clicking the button on her Tassimo coffee machine and watching as the glass filled up with the warm, welcoming brown liquid and the accompanying smell of luxury. As adamant as she was with catching Sam, he had saved her life.

  He had risked everything to save an innocent girl from a life not worth living.

  She could never find it in herself to call him a hero, but there was much about his stance against the evil in the world to be admired. What bothered her most, despite the myriad of ‘decent men’ who desired her courtship and the countless number of crimes he had committed, Singh found herself attracted to him.

  In another life, perhaps?

  With a disappointed sigh, she took a sip of her coffee and wondered how she would spend the first day of her two-week suspension. It had been such a long time since she’d taken time off that she didn’t know how to relax. Maybe she would go to the cinema and see which comic book hero was being force fed to the nation? Maybe she would book into a spa and put her broken body through some well-deserved pampering?

  Si
ngh would have loved to have been excited by any of them.

  But she knew what she had to do.

  While her punishment was well deserved, she knew that the review committee would look favourably on her thanks to her past record and the fact that she did save four teenage girls from a lifetime of sex slavery. To restore her reputation, she needed to get back on the horse.

  She needed to catch Sam Pope.

  As she booted up her MacBook, she lowered herself onto one of the breakfast stools that lined her kitchen. She clicked onto BBC news, intrigued to see how the Metropolitan Police had spun what had happened. With her appetite non-existent, Singh popped a couple of pain killers into her mouth and washed them down with the remains of her coffee.

  A headline flashed up that caught her eye.

  ‘Mark Harris, leading candidate in the Mayoral Election, has withdrawn his candidacy amid wide-spread rumours of illegal operations.’

  Singh began to scan the article, smirking as a picture of the smarmy politician looking bedraggled filled the page. Apparently, his robotic assistant, Burrows had been dealing with nefarious businessmen to secure funding.

  Singh clicked the button again and the Tassimo machine rumbled to life, eager to provide her with another helpful shot of caffeine.

  If she was going to catch Sam Pope, she was going to need all the help she could get.

  A week had passed since he had brought Jasmine back to the house and Aaron was still unsure what he should say. At first, she’d clung to him, not leaving his side all day and spending the nights curled up next to him. But as he tried to reintegrate her back into normal life, he could see the pain in her eyes.

  Whenever the doorbell went, she jumped. If a cupboard door slammed shut, she screamed.

  Aaron had been forced to put his phone on silent, just to keep her heart rate down.