She sighed. A groan escaped her lips.
“Sorry,” Janet said. “I’m a little played out just now.”
“Take your time,” Paul said. “You’ve a captive audience.”
Janet managed a weak chuckle.
“Thanks to my CI,” she continued. “We were on the verge of taking them down. He told us a kingpin from a Turkish syndicate was coming to Amsterdam in a few weeks for meetings with a local distributor. My informant promised to leave details and a bunch more information in a drop box we use occasionally. That’s the address I gave you.”
“Are you sure you should be telling me all this?” Paul said. “Someone might be listening.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Janet said. “They’ve ‘made me’, obviously. They tried to get information from me about my CI, that address and what Interpol is up to. They’re planning to torture and starve me some more... both of us probably... until we talk. Then they’ll kill us. That’s how they operate. Leave no human trail.”
“That’s not encouraging,” Paul said.
“Yeah,” Janet said.
“Well then,” Paul said. “They probably think they’ve two reasons to take me out. Helping you was just the latest. A few months back I rescued a recruit from a London gang and messed up their operations. They’re connected to a syndicate from Turkey... maybe the same one. Evidently overlords take a dim view of things like that.”
“Oh yes!” Janet said. “For sure. But I expect we’re okay for the moment. They’ve all gone somewhere. I heard them talking... while you were out cold.”
“Do you know where we are?” Paul asked.
“In a large bike storage shed, I think,” Janet said. “We’re near Molenwijk. It’s north of Amsterdam. It was getting dark when they brought me here, but I’m sure I saw signs for the town.”
“Smells damp,” Paul said. “Guess everything smells like that in this part of Holland.”
“Look, Paul,” Janet said. “If you get away and I don’t, please make sure someone we can trust gets the material from that cache. I’ll give you some phone numbers to memorize. Okay?”
“Of course, Janet,” he said. “But we’re getting out of here together.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Earnscliffe
“Hi Daddy!” Anne answered the phone in her home office. “What a nice surprise! How are you doing?” She paused, and then added, “And Mother?”
“We’re both fine, Princess,” Richard said. “And how’s our wonderful little grandbaby, Catherine today.”
“Just lovely,” Anne said. “We’re both getting a full night’s sleep finally. It’s heaven. I thought I was spoiled when Doug was a baby. Catherine’s even better.”
“Can I ask you something?” her father said, his voice now serious.
“Sure Daddy,” she replied. His tone made her apprehensive. “What is it?”
“Have you heard from Paul recently... yesterday or today?”
“Why no, Daddy,” Anne said, now on full alert. “He usually calls me every day. As a matter of fact, I expected to hear from him last night but didn’t. That’s unusual. What’s wrong?”
“You know that he went to Amsterdam,” Richard said.
“Why yes,” Anne replied. Alarms were going off in her head.
“He was doing something for us,” Richard said. “Standard procedure is to check in at least once a day while travelling. I don’t wish to concern you, but we’ve not heard from Paul for over two days either.”
Anne felt a steely grip on her heart.
“What can we do, I do?” she asked.
“Nothing much, I’m afraid,” Richard said. “We don’t know exactly where he’s got to. If you hear from him will you be sure to have him call me straight away?”
“Of course Daddy,” she said. She was gripped with fear. “How much can you tell me?”
“Paul called after he arrived at his hotel,” Richard said. “That was two days ago. I’ve checked with contacts in the city police. We’ve also checked hospitals in the area. No sign of him. We know that Paul left his hotel right after breakfast two days ago. His room hasn’t been used since, and his clothes were still in the closet. He was supposed to check out yesterday.”
“Oh no!” Anne managed to say. She was fighting tears.
“Do you want me to send your mother over to be with you, Princess?” Richard said.
“No thanks,” Anne replied abruptly.
“Would you like me to come by?” he asked.
“Yes, please, Daddy.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Molenwijk,
North of Amsterdam
Paul couldn’t remember when he’d ever been this hungry or thirsty.
He’d had nothing to eat or drink in the two days since the kidnapping. He and Janet had been ignored mostly, except at night when someone unlocked the only door every few hours and stuck their head in briefly. They flashed a light around, presumably to ensure that both were still there.
Paul was startled when two men entered the shed. One tossed a dark blue jacket on a chair in a corner. A shoulder patch on the bomber-style jacket looked familiar. It only took moments for him to figure out why—Schiphol Airport Security.
He felt a wave of relief.
Good, they’ve finally caught the buggers! He thought. They’re here to release us.
“Glad you guys finally made it,” Paul said hopefully, straining against his bonds.
The man who’d been wearing the jacket said nothing as he walked over to Paul. He untied the strap across his chest holding Paul’s body on the table.
Paul sat partly up, propping himself on his elbows. The wrist ties and waist strap would be next, he thought.
Paul turned toward the man just in time to see a fist slam into his face, knocking him back down onto the table. His head hit the hard surface. He blacked out.
***
Paul regained consciousness to the sound of muted screams behind him, as if coming through a gag. He was seated upright now and tied to a chair.
His feet were bare and submerged in a large round galvanized tub filled with cold water. A pair of electrical wires led to it from somewhere behind him. One thick wire was affixed to the edge of the metal tub with a large insulated clamp. The other wire lay on the floor. At the end of it another insulated clamp gripped a three-foot metal rod.
“I’m going to ask you just one more time,” an angry male voice said behind him. “Then I’m going to turn up the juice even higher. You’re not going to like it... if you live.
“Tell me!” the voice demanded. “Who’s the snitch? Who’s ratting on us?”
“Fuck you!” said a female voice. Paul recognized it as Janet’s.
He heard the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh, and a low moan.
“Put the gag back on,” the male voice said. “We don’t want the neighbors to hear.”
Paul heard a crackling sound and another muted scream. The ensuing silence grated more than the terrorized screams had.
“Is she still alive?” the voice said.
“Think so,” another male said. “Barely.”
“Leave her for now,” said the first voice. “We need her alive long enough to tell us what Jorge Celik wants to know. We’ve got to get that fucking name... or we’re in deep shit.
“Looks like we’re going to be here a while,” the first voice said. “Go get us some food. Our guy here has gotta be mighty hungry now too. We’ll eat in front of him. Maybe he’ll be persuaded to cooperate. If not, we’ll use electricity on him, too... after we soften him up.
“How are your knuckles, Javari?” the first voice added.
“They fuckin’ hurt,” Javari complained. “That broad has a tough jaw. And her gut’s hard too, for a woman. Think I mighta broken a rib or two this time, Karl.”
“Who the fuck cares,” Karl replied. “They’re both dead once we get what we need. I’m hungry. Go get that food. While you’re out, pick me up more rubber gloves
. And don’t mess around with any broads. You hear me?”
“I could use some relief,” Javari said. “I’m real horny. I’d fuck that woman but she’s too messy.”
“You can get your whore later, Javari,” Karl said. “No more screwing around. We gotta get this done! You hear me?”
“You’re not my fuckin’ boss, Karl,” Javari said. “Mind your own business. I’ll get back when I get back. What’s the fuckin’ hurry?”
Paul heard the door creak shut, and footsteps behind him a few seconds later. A loud ‘clunk’ told him the door had been barred from the inside. It gave him an idea.
The sound of steps came up beside him. The man with the jacket turned out to be Karl. His uniform shirt bore a tag with his first name and the logo of the Schiphol Airport security service. The shirt was stained with blood splatters. So were his pants and boots. Paul suspected the blood was Janet’s. He cringed.
“Your turn’s coming,” Karl said to him. “Be smart and talk. It’ll be easier on you if you do. See those wires?”
Paul looked down.
“They’re connected to two hundred and twenty volts,” Karl said. “We’ll start by giving your feet a taste of that juice. If that doesn’t persuade you, we’ll connect your more sensitive parts and give them a couple of good jolts. While we’re waiting, why don’t I give you a little sample of what’s coming.” Karl laughed. “Good idea, don’t you think?”
Karl walked out of Paul’s sight. He heard a heavy switch click and Karl’s steps drew closer.
“Here we go,” he said, picking up the wire with the metal bar. It was on Paul’s right side. Karl was wearing thick rubber gloves.
Karl stuck the bar into the water just as Paul raised his feet swiftly and kicked Karl in the crotch. He used his feet to grab the midsection of the now disabled Karl, throwing him off balance. Next, Paul forced his right foot down on Karl’s back and his left on the back of his neck, forcing Karl’s head under the water. Karl’s body trapped the energized bar under him.
Paul felt Karl’s body convulse and twitch from the two hundred and twenty volts and his struggles to raise his head, while Paul’s own body jerked also from the current slamming into both of them. He crossed his right foot over his left for added strength, struggling to keep Karl’s head underwater. A few moments later, Karl’s body became still, his head still underwater. Paul was sure he’d heard the breaker trip, stopping the current. His legs felt as if they were still vibrating from the electricity. The rest of his body was weak.
That’s one problem solved I hope, Paul thought. That’s assuming he doesn’t come around. How the hell am I going to get out of this chair to help Janet? We’d better scram before that Javari guy gets back. Hope he found a prostitute to delay him.
Paul noticed a small black case attached to Karl’s belt.
Maybe there’s a knife in there, or something that’s sharp enough to cut these ties, he thought.
He heard faint moaning behind him.
“Janet?” Paul said. “Can you hear me? We may have a chance to get out of here.”
Paul heard another moan. It sounded a bit stronger. He hoped it was.
He looked down at the chair legs.
Hum-m-m, he thought. This heavy chair is gonna make things difficult.
Paul wanted to maneuver the chair around enough to see and check on Janet. The problem was his legs—he was still holding them up, keeping them away from Karl’s body just in case the tub was still energized.
He was thankful for the physical and mental strength he’d developed from his Muay Thai training while in university. And he was grateful to Doug for taking an interest. As a result, they’d been taking lessons together for over a year, helping him keep in shape.
Okay now... if my feet touch Karl again, I could end up being incapacitated, or worse, Paul thought, realizing the lack of food and water had reduced his strength severely. He’d used most of what he had left to subdue Karl. But there’s no way to maneuver this damned chair without touching him or the tub. Shit!
Paul reasoned that since Karl’s body had stopped twitching there was a good chance the breaker had tripped.
I haven’t much choice, or the time, he thought. I might as well give it a try.
The strain of keeping his legs elevated had caused them to begin shaking... signs of muscles beginning to fail. Paul focused on his right leg, and decided to touch Karl’s body with that foot.
Paul lowered his foot slowly.
Here goes, he thought.
He quickly touched and removed his foot from Karl’s body.
Nothing!
He tried again, touching just a bit longer this time.
Again, nothing.
Paul breathed a sigh of relief. He’d guessed correctly; the short circuit through Karl’s body had tripped the power breaker.
Good!
Paul pushed down hard on the right side of the tub, trying to rock the chair enough to tip it over. The wide stance of the chair legs made the job more difficult. Water in the large tub and the weight of Karl’s body helped to steady it. Paul let the chair fall back in place, and pushed again, harder this time. The chair still didn’t tip over as he planned.
He let it slam back down. He took a rest before pushing it with all his might. The chair teetered and finally crashed over on its back. Paul rocked the chair sideways time and time again trying to gain momentum until it finally rolled onto its side.
Using his feet, he pulled and pushed on the tub until he maneuvered the chair close to Karl’s body. He tucked one foot under Karl’s chest, tipping his body over the edge of the tub onto the rotting wood plank floor.
He could see Janet now. She was hanging from the wall, her elbows secured with cable ties to rings attached to the cement wall. Her head hung down; her feet were in a pool of blood.
That doesn’t look good, Paul thought.
“Janet,” he said. “We’re going to get out of here. Can you hear me?”
Janet moved her head side to side slightly and coughed uneasily. A gag was still in place.
Paul worked the chair around until his left hand was next to the black case on Karl’s belt. His fingers could just reach it. He pulled on the flap and removed the contents.
Bingo! He thought. A switchblade knife!
Opening it was going to be a challenge, he realized. Holding the knife in his hand, he tried to push the release button. His fingers couldn’t reach it without the risk of dropping the knife. He reached toward the arm of the chair and tried to push the release button against it. The blade wouldn’t release. He couldn’t push the button far enough in to release the blade.
Time for Plan B, he thought. Good thing they removed my shoes and socks. If I can maneuver my leg close enough to my wrist, I might be able to push the button with my big toe.
It would be a challenge and he’d have to do it by feel, blind. On the fourth or fifth try—he lost count—Paul’s toe finally found the button.
Now I know what a pretzel feels like.
He pushed the button. The blade snapped open! It was disappointingly small, maybe three inches at most.
As he was trying to maneuver the knife toward his wrist, it slipped from his grip.
Oh shit! He thought. Now what?
He felt around.
It must have rolled away. It couldn’t have gone far... surely!
After a few minutes of agonized searching his little finger touched something. It felt sharp... yes, it was the blade!
Paul used his feet to push the chair ever so slightly to bring his hand within reach of the knife. Finally, he had it!
Be more careful this time, he scolded himself.
With his left hand he managed to saw away awkwardly at the cable tie around that wrist. Finally the knife cut through the tough nylon band. His forearm was free! His upper arm was still secured to the chair. He reached across trying to cut the tie around his right wrist. It was too far. He moved the knife until he was holding it with the tips of his fi
ngers. He knew if it slipped from his grip, he’d have to start over.
The tip of the knife just reached the tie on his right wrist. He worked the tip of the blade against the nylon tie, stopping often to rest his weary fingers. Finally the tie was cut through, freeing his right hand. He took the knife in that hand to cut the tie holding his left bicep. Finally free, he used his left hand to free his right bicep. In seconds he was crawling away from the overturned chair.
Standing unsteadily, he made his way over to Janet. Her elbows were bound with the heavy cable ties to rusted iron rings held in place by equally rusty eyebolts secured into the cement wall.
Paul held her gently as he removed the gag and cut her free. Her bare feet were bloody and looked like they’d been pounded with something. He noticed a bloody claw hammer on the floor beside the wall. Paul couldn’t suppress a shudder.
He carried Janet over to where Karl had thrown his jacket. He used one hand to spread the jacket on the floor and carefully laid Janet’s back and shoulders on it. There were deep cuts to the bottoms of her feet.
Jeez! Those bastards whipped her feet, too! He thought. They’re bloody savages!
Janet stirred and opened her bloodshot eyes.
“Are you okay?” she said, unable to suppress a groan. Paul was surprised and impressed that her first question was about his wellbeing, despite her obviously excruciating injuries.
Paul found an unopened bottle of water. He lifted Janet’s head and gently helped her sip.
Her voice was stronger than he expected. That was encouraging. But she wouldn’t be walking anywhere with her feet in that condition. He also accepted that carrying her for any amount of time would pose a problem for him, having had no food or water for more than two days.
“Yes,” he replied. “We’re getting out of here.”
Just then Paul heard a thump on the door.
“Open up, Karl! I got your fucking food!”
It was Jafari’s impatient voice.
Paul glanced at Janet. The look on her face was a mixture of fear, pain, fatigue, and resignation.
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