Wolf's Cage

by Laura Taylor

  “So what do you think?” Kendrick spoke up finally. “Have we lived up to your expectations?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “And what about joining us? Have you given that some thought?”

  “It has a certain appeal,” Caroline admitted. “I still don’t know what the fuck you do, but whatever it is, you seem to know how to do it well.”

  Kendrick nodded. “Good to hear. Then let’s move on to the tougher part. There are conditions to joining us. If you agree to sign up, then the full details of our operation, our scope of activities and your new living conditions will be made known to you once we arrive at the compound. Following that, there’s a mandatory two year training period before you can become a fully qualified operative. But given the dangers of our operations, understand that resigning is not an option. There is only one way people ever leave our organisation, and that is in a wooden box. Do you understand?”

  That sent a cold shiver down Caroline’s spine. “Just for the sake of clarity, is it too late for me to back out now? I mean, right now, standing here on the street, if I decide this isn’t for me, will you shoot me, or do I get to walk away?”

  “At any time until you accept our offer and we arrive at the compound, you have the opportunity to leave,” Kendrick answered in his usual straightforward manner. “After you enter the compound, that’s it. So if you have any questions or concerns, I strongly suggest you voice them now.”

  Good to know. “So what if I join up and turn out to be a massive failure at your training? If I can’t resign, then logically that implies you can’t sack me either. So what happens then?”

  “We have a large number of skilled trainers in bases right across Europe,” Kendrick said seriously. “We’re willing to devote a large amount of time and energy to training our recruits, and there are a variety of different positions you could fill, each requiring a different skill set. One way or another, we will find a role suitable for you.”

  Caroline thought that through, then nodded. Nice to know this mob was loyal to their trainees. “Okay, so what other conditions are there to me joining you?”

  “Absolute anonymity,” Kendrick replied. “As far as the general public is concerned, you will cease to exist. We’ll ask you to drop out of high school. Quit your job. Break up with your boyfriend. Cut all ties to anyone you know, including all members of your family.”

  Caroline snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s no great loss.”

  “I’m serious, Caroline,” Kendrick said sharply. “By joining us, you agree to abandon all links to your past. You will never, ever see your family again. Never contact them, never phone them, never have anything to do with them.”

  Caroline didn’t even have to think about that one. “Consider them forgotten,” she said blackly. “The sooner I get out of that hell hole, the better.”

  “You are entering a world of danger, war and uncertainty, as well as of loyalty, camaraderie and devotion. Your life as you know it will never be the same. Last chance, Caroline. Do you want to join us, or do you want to walk away?”

  “I want to join you.”

  “Good.” Kendrick reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “This is a list of requirements for you, things you’ll need to do before we meet again,” he said, handing it to her. “As I said, you’ll have to quit your job. Drop out of school. Concoct some story for your family, maybe tell them you’re moving to another city to look for work… there’s a list of suggestions in here and you can choose the one you think is most plausible. I’ll see you again in exactly one week, on the morning of the nineteenth, at the train station in the city centre. Bring any personal effects you desire, but don’t worry about clothing, toiletries or the like. Everything you need will be provided.”

  “What if you don’t show up?” Caroline asked, trying not to sound nervous. He was asking her to take a hell of a risk, cancelling out her entire life like this, and it was only good sense to plan for unexpected contingencies.

  “If I don’t show up, it means I’m dead,” Kendrick told her flatly. “And in that case, one of my colleagues will contact you to make alternative arrangements. For security reasons, I can’t give you a way to contact us, but rest assured, we will be keeping an eye on you between now and then. If anything goes wrong, we are here to help.”

  Caroline’s heart was in her throat as she walked away. So much possibility, and yet so much risk. What if it all went wrong? What if Kendrick was not who he said he was? But what was her alternative, she wondered grimly. Keep working a minimum wage job and waiting for the day when her father tired of beating her up with his fists and picked up a shotgun instead?

  She had one week to go. One week to make a series of nerve-wracking decisions, to burn her bridges once and for all. One more week to endure a living hell, and to hope that she managed to make it out alive before the whole damn thing came crashing to the ground.

  When the day finally came, Caroline was both as nervous and as excited as a skydiver on their first jump. She’d done her duty, quit school, dumped her boyfriend, and told her family that she was going to America for six months. All going well, she’d find a job there and wouldn’t come back. When Greg asked her where she’d got the money, she cheerfully replied that she’d stolen it, and then had to tolerate a round of degrading suggestions that she’d been hooking on the side and had earned the money that way. Fucking arsehole.

  But that was all over now. She’d finished her last day at school, packed her belongings, meagre though they were, and after a last farewell with her old friends at a local pub, all she had to do was pick up her bag from her house and catch a bus to the ‘airport’, or so her family believed.

  She knew something was wrong the instant she set foot inside the door. Rather than greeting her with insults and threats of violence, her father was standing in the kitchen doorway, beer in hand and a scowl on his face… and he said absolutely nothing. Just eyed her coldly and sucked on his beer.

  Greg was on the couch, playing a video game, and he hit pause as she came into the room, a glint of glee in his eyes, though he, too, said nothing. Caroline paused, glanced around the room, and then continued on to her bedroom with no small degree of trepidation. It was going to be fine, she told herself firmly. All she had to do was walk down the hall, pick up her bag, and get the hell out of here. If they tried to stop her, she could fight them. If they insulted her, she could ignore them. If they…

  She stopped in the doorway to her room, and her jaw dropped. What the hell had they done?! She spun around, marched back to the living room, picked up a stray plate sitting on the stained coffee table and smashed the thing over Greg’s head. “You fucking arsehole! You hate me so much, but you can’t even let me fucking leave, you mother fucking piece of shit! How could you?” She picked up a lamp and threw it at him, and it hit him squarely in the face, mostly because he was already dazed from the earlier blow to the head. But Caroline’s father was suffering no such handicap, and he cheerfully smashed his now empty beer bottle against the wall and came at her with the jagged end of glass.

  “You think you’re so much better than us?” he asked, words slurred with alcohol. “You think you can just up and leave like your fucking mother? I’ve raised you, paid for your food and your clothes, gave you a fucking house to live in, and you think you can just walk out?” He swung the bottle at her, and Caroline had had enough. She wasn’t going to stand by while he attacked her with broken glass. She picked up the coffee table, surprised at how easy it was, though rage was flooding her system with adrenaline, and she swung the thing at him, heard a satisfying crack as it collided with his ribs, fairly sure she’d just broken some of them. He grunted, hit the wall, but didn’t go down, so she swung it again, thumping it down over his back, and he went down that time, hit the floor and lay still. Perhaps she had killed him, she thought with a wave of fear… but fuck it. All the better if she had.

  Greg was writhing on the couch, moaning, so she wasted no more
time with him. Just marched back to her room and surveyed the damage they had done in her absence.

  Not a single thing was left untouched. Everything on the shelves had been tossed to the floor. Her clothes were scattered about, the ones in the wardrobe as well as the ones in her bag, and they’d had paint tipped over them. There were holes in the walls, no doubt the result of angry fists, her books ripped up, the clock broken into a thousand pieces, broken glass scattered through the debris. They’d destroyed everything she owned, every last thing she could lay claim to in the whole world, and Caroline felt a fiery hate settle in her belly. She’d put up with far too much shit over the years, felt the blow of too many fists, far more than any child should have to endure. And now they couldn’t even let her leave without taking one final shot at her.

  She picked up the bag she’d packed earlier to see if anything had survived.

  Nothing. Nothing was left unbroken or undamaged. And she felt tears prick at her eyes as she pulled out the small ceramic figurine of a dolphin that had sat on her bedside table for years. It was damaged beyond repair, the tail and flippers snapped off, the delicate blue curls of the ocean shattered beyond recognition. Her mother had given it to her for her twelfth birthday; the last gift she’d ever given her. And Caroline still felt an ache in her chest when she thought of the woman. She’d been a hopeless parent, an alcoholic, unable to care for herself half the time, but she’d also loved Caroline, and the few good memories she had of her childhood were all focused around the woman. Along with a black resentment that she hadn’t taken Caroline with her when she’d finally left.

  Perhaps it was better this way, Caroline thought bleakly. A clean break, with nothing left to bring up memories of the past. She swiftly wiped her eyes and banished the tears. There would be time enough for that later.

  But right now, she had a bus to catch, a new life to discover, and she was running short on time as it was.

  Caroline dropped the broken dolphin on the floor, determinedly refusing to care where it landed. Then she put her shoulders back, her head up, and marched herself straight out the front door, ignoring the insults and threats that echoed after her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Out on the street, Caroline tried not to think, tried not to dwell on anything other than getting to the train station and meeting Kendrick. If she stopped and thought about what her family had just done, she was likely to either break down into tears, or turn around, go back, and finish the job of killing them then and there.

  She got to the bus stop and waited impatiently, tapping her foot, pacing up and down until the bus arrived, and then she got on, took a seat near the back and stared out the window, trying to slow her racing heart, praying that Kendrick would be there on time, that his promises would come true and that she hadn’t just made one of the worst mistakes of her life.

  She was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely noticed when two well-dressed men got onto the bus – unusual in this part of town – nor when they sat down, one in the seat in front of her, one beside her. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” the one beside her said. “It seems we have something of a situation.”

  Caroline looked up, taking note of the two men for the first time. And she was instantly on guard. “What situation?” she asked, thoughts racing as to what the hell could be going wrong now. Was Kendrick dead? He’d said that if he couldn’t meet her, he’d send his colleagues instead. But if that was the case, then why wouldn’t they just meet her at the train station at the arranged time?

  But on the other hand, who else could these men be? They were clearly out of place, blending in as well here as a prostitute in a nunnery.

  “It’s regarding a particular acquaintance of yours,” the man said, and held out a small photograph of Kendrick. So Kendrick had sent them. It was both a relief and a cause for alarm. Kendrick was her best and closest link to her new life, and if something had happened to him, there were no guarantees that the rest of his organisation would honour the promises he had made.

  Caroline was about to ask what had happened when her phone beeped, announcing an incoming text message. Unable to afford one of her own, Kendrick had given her the phone several weeks ago. “Just in case”, he’d said, and Caroline had taken it without question.

  Now, she quickly pulled it out to see what the message was. She didn’t use it very often, didn’t receive many messages as none of her friends were able to afford one, though now that the devices were growing in popularity, the prices were gradually coming down.

  On second thought, she realised, feeling a growing sense of unease, if Kendrick was sending someone else to meet her, why wouldn’t he have chosen one of the few people she’d met during her training sessions, rather than random strangers? She glanced at the message.

  Get off the bus. Now.

  “Excuse me, this is my stop,” she announced, standing up and all but forcing the man beside her out of the way. He could make a fuss if he liked, but they were in a public place, surrounded by other passengers, and she was more than willing to press the issue if he forced a confrontation.

  But he moved aside, letting her out, and she wasn’t entirely surprised when he and his friend both followed her off the bus. They’d arrived at a long row of shops, the streets busy, and Caroline looked around, wondering where Kendrick was, wondering what she was supposed to do next.

  “Ma’am, you need to understand you could be in serious trouble,” the man tried again, following her as she weaved down the street. She found an out-of-the-way spot outside a solicitor’s office, and stopped, scanning the road. No sign of Kendrick. “We’ve been investigating this individual – a man you’ve been seen with several times in the past few weeks – and we have reason to believe he’s part of a terrorist organisation. You could be in grave danger.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caroline said sharply. “I’ve never seen him before. You must have the wrong person.”

  “Ma’am,” the man tried again, then stepped up close to her when she ignored him. And Caroline froze when she saw what else he had in his hand besides the photograph. It was a pistol, held close to his body, covered by the edge of his coat, and it was currently pointed directly at her stomach. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us.”

  Damn Kendrick for getting her caught up in this shit! It was supposed to be a simple meeting, a smooth, clean exit from her old life, not a disaster zone at her house followed by creepy stiffs in suits trying to kidnap her!

  A motorbike suddenly pulled up at the curb in front of her, and Caroline felt a rush of relief as she recognised Kendrick’s bike. Two burly guards appeared behind the men harassing her, lumpy coats suggesting they were carrying concealed weapons.

  “Let the young lady go,” one of them said, and the two men looked around, then stood down, quickly realising they were outnumbered. Caroline eased around them and went straight to Kendrick, putting on the helmet he offered and climbing onto the bike. They were off a moment later, leaving the two guards to deal with the men.

  Once they’d been driving for about ten minutes, Caroline tapped Kendrick’s shoulder and indicated that she wanted him to pull over. He did, and pulled off his helmet so he could talk to her.

  “I’m sorry I was late,” he apologised. “I hadn’t realised they’d got so close to you.”

  “Who were they?” Caroline asked, removing her own helmet and climbing off the bike. She wasn’t going anywhere else until she got some answers.

  “I’ve mentioned in the past that we have enemies,” Kendrick said grimly. “You’ve just met two of them. And I guarantee, they won’t be the last.”

  “They said you were terrorists,” Caroline accused him coldly. “I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not into that shit. I want to make something of my life, not become a criminal!”

  “I promise you, we are not terrorists,” Kendrick said, looking her square in the eye. “Your morals are admirable, and will be respected to the highest degree. And in jus
t a couple of hours, we’ll reach our base and explain to you what we really are. All your fears will be laid to rest.”

  Caroline was wound tight as a spring by the time Kendrick pulled up at a wide iron gate. They’d headed north along the motorway, then turned off onto a series of country lanes, each narrower than the last, stone walls lining the road and green fields dotted with sheep stretched out on either side, until they’d finally arrived at a large estate.

  Kendrick tapped a code into the panel beside the entrance. The gate slid open without a sound, and the bike continued up the driveway. There was a high wall all around the property, a thick barrier of trees and hedges inside it, blocking the view for any overly curious neighbours. Whatever it was these people were doing here, it was clear they didn’t want stray observers.

  After the incident with the men on the bus, Caroline was having serious doubts about wanting to be a part of it.

  The bike rolled to a stop in front of a huge manor, three storeys high, in grey stone. Apparently they were expected, as a number of heavily armed guards stood out the front, waiting for them. She recognised Silas, one of the men who’d taken her through the basics of firearms use, and Raven, who’d been her instructor for some of her martial arts sessions. The rest of them were unfamiliar, but they all carried the same air of menace and authority.

  “This way,” Kendrick told her, dumping his helmet beside the bike and leading her around the side of the house, the group of guards following them.

  At the back, they reached a wide lawn with a patio leading up to a back door. On the patio, more people waited, a woman who greeted Kendrick with a relieved smile and a kiss, a young man who looked like an ex-gang member, dark scowl and resentful glare, a dark skinned woman in her mid twenties. In all, there were more than a dozen people loitering about, and Caroline couldn’t decide how to feel about that. The almost military air fitted in with Kendrick’s previous assertions that they were a covert operations unit, and yet the hostile atmosphere could also fit perfectly well with a bunch of terrorists, ready and willing to shoot their newest recruit if she wasn’t what they expected.